Paint Her Black
by PalmettoBlue
Summary: The War is over. Voldemort's gone. Old secrets form the basis for new conflicts for Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, and Harry Potter, Champion. In a time of great confusion, will Hermione turn away from her life-long friend? Harmony, Half-blood!Hermione, OOC, AU, EWE - obviously *art by Freya Ishtar*
1. Chapter 1

**Beta love: glittergrrrl05 (If you haven't read her stuff, you should go do that now.** _ **Paint Her Black**_ **will wait for you.)**

 **Disclaimer:** _ **Harry Potter**_ **and the HP universe are the property of JKR and her assigns. I receive no monetary compensation from the writing and posting of this flight of fancy.**

* * *

 **Ch. 1**

 _Fall 1977_

 _7th Floor Corridor_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Sirius finally made his move, gently herding Mary backwards towards the wall. He leaned down from his greater height and captured her lips with his. It was everything he'd imagined it would be.

A unwelcome, drawling voice interrupted this most beautiful of kisses. "Well, well, well, what have we here? Two Gryffindors out past curfew."

Sirius broke the kiss and rested his forehead on Mary's. He knew that voice. "Bugger off, Regulus."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sirius. I'm a Prefect. It's going to be twenty points from Gryffindor – Each. Out past curfew, snogging a Mud –" His voice cut off abruptly as Sirius struck like the snake he could have been.

"I know you will _not_ be finishing that sentence, brother _dear_." Sirius growled as he dug his wand into the other wizard's throat.

Regulus's eyes widened as he felt the tip of Sirius's wand bruise his throat. "Sirius, she's just a filthy…."

" _No_ , she is _not_ , Regulus." He pressed his wand even deeper. "And you _will_ apologize for even thinking such things."

"Sirius." Mary MacDonald's quiet voice penetrated the red haze fogging Sirius's brain. "It's fine. Let him go."

"Not until he apologizes." Sirius stared into Regulus's eyes impressing upon his brother just how determined he really was.

"Sirius, please." The witch laid a soft hand on his shoulder. Regulus's eyes flashed with some emotion that may have been gratitude, but it was so fleeting, neither Sirius nor Mary could fully identify it. However, that moment was enough for Sirius to come back to himself. He pushed his brother again, knocking Regulus's head against the wall, but withdrew his wand.

"Take the points, Reggie. But if you call Mary that disgusting name again, I won't hold back." He gathered Mary protectively under his arm and led her down the hall towards Gryffindor tower.

"Wait." Regulus's voice stopped in them in their tracks. "I won't take the points." The pair slowly turned to face him. "Mary, it's Mary MacDonald, isn't it?" At her nod, he continued. "I apologize for casting aspersions on your blood status. That was poorly done of me. It won't happen again." He turned swiftly, his robes billowing out behind him dramatically as he strode towards the staircase to the sixth floor.

* * *

 _Fall 1997_

 _The Forest of Dean_

"I can't believe he left us, Harry," Hermione sobbed.

"Shh, shh, shh. It'll be alright." Harry turned on the wireless, and a slow, mournful tune poured out. "Dance with me, Hermione." He held her close, and gradually, Hermione felt the warmth of his body seep into her very bones. Harry would never leave her, no more than she'd ever leave him.

"We'll be okay; we'll get through this, Hermione." Harry said no more as they swayed to the rhythm of the music. As the music segued into a more romantic tune, Harry pulled back and looked Hermione in her eyes, asking for permission. At her small nod, he leaned forward and kissed her softly, gently on the lips. His tongue teased at her mouth, tempting her to open, and when she did, he swept inside. Hermione had been kissed before, but Harry was making her forget everything: Ron, the Horcruxes, Voldemort. All of it. Breathing heavily, Harry slowly disengaged and moved back. "Oh Godric, Hermione. I didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

Hermione cut him off. "No, Harry, it's fine. It's fine. I needed that too. We just won't speak of it, again. We have too much to do to be distracted by – us."

Harry's lips tightened. "You're right. Friends?" She was right, but he didn't have to like it. He opened his arms, inviting her to step close for a hug. She hesitated, but then moved into his arms. He held her close. "You'll never lose me, Hermione."

"I know, Harry. And you won't ever get rid of me, either," she teased him, lightening the mood.

* * *

 _1 July_

 _The Burrow_

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. When the Ministry officials located your parents, they couldn't reverse the memory charm. " Seeing the heartbreak on Hermione's face, Kingsley softened his voice as much as possible. "It appears there is another memory charm in place, and reversing your charm would almost certainly destroy their minds. It – it could even kill them."

Hermione collapsed onto the worn sofa, silent tears streaming down her face. "I can't- wait, what are you talking about, another charm?"

"We don't know, Hermione, but we just can't take the chance. The older charm is very old; the Unspeakables who were there to reverse the spell, they think it's decades old. It's really remarkable that they managed to retain faculties with a second charm placed. They think that your parents must have some magical blood in their families for their minds to be as flexible as they are."

"I could have killed them?" Hermione's voice was small and devastated. In the face of her obvious grief, Kingsley decided to retreat. While he was fond of the witch, he was not equipped to deal with this level of heart-wrenching emotion.

"Let me get Molly, Hermione." Kingsley reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'm so sorry we weren't able to fix this. But I believe that you did what you had to do. Their lives would've certainly been forfeit if the Death Eaters had found them."

Molly bustled in moments after Kingsley left. Taking in Hermione's state at a glance, she called for Ginny, gathering Hermione in her arms. "Ginny, call Harry and Ron at Grimmauld Place. We need them here, immediately."

As Hermione quietly sobbed into Molly's shoulder, she held the girl tightly, making comforting noises.

"Please get Harry and Ron." Ginny was talking to Sirius in the Floo. "Hermione needs them."

Sirius's reply was muffled, but soon Harry and Ron appeared in the fireplace. "Ginny, what's wrong?"

"I'm not sure, but Kingsley just left, and I don't think it was good news. Can you both come over?" Moments later, Harry and Ron were there, brushing soot off their shoulders.

And Hermione cried.

* * *

 _15 July_

 _The Burrow & #12 Grimmauld Place_

Hermione stared at the letter from Hogwarts. For the first time since Kingsley's visit, she felt a stirring of interest. Headmistress McGonagall was offering her a chance to return for an 8th year and finish her qualifications.

Ron looked at his letter. He didn't want to go back to Hogwarts. Contrary to popular belief, he was a solid student, but he never _liked_ school, and he couldn't imagine going back voluntarily. The letter in his other hand was much more interesting to him. England was inviting him to try out for Keeper in September. The National team! But his mum – she was going to want him to go back to school. Harry would back his play, though. And Hermione? Ha! He knew what Hermione would say. Ron steeled himself for the argument to come.

At Grimmauld Place, Harry considered the letter in his hand. Kingsley had offered him the opportunity to start immediate Auror training, but he'd been putting off that decision. Maybe he should consider returning to school.

"Sirius, I'm going to the Burrow!"

"What's up, Harry?" Sirius came into the room, drying his hands on a hand towel.

Harry paused. He wanted to talk to Hermione and Ron, but Sirius might have something helpful to say. "I just got my Hogwarts letter. I wanted to talk to Hermione and Ron, see what they are doing. I was considering going back."

"You don't want to start Auror training with the Ministry?" Sirius settled into his favorite chair near the Floo.

"I…I don't know. Sometimes, I think so, but others…" Harry shrugged.

Cocking his head to the side in an almost canine fashion, Sirius considered Harry. "I think you should go back to school."

"You do?" Harry was incredulous.

"Yeah, I do." Sirius leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Did you ever get a chance to enjoy school, Harry?" At Harry's negative headshake, he continued, "No? Well, here's your chance. Date a few girls. Live a little. Play a few drinking games. Play some practical jokes. Life won't be so carefree once you graduate." Sitting up, he shrugged. "Auror training will be waiting on you when you get out, if you want it."

Harry sat, stunned.

"But, yeah, go talk it over with Ron and Hermione. I think they'll tell you the same thing. Well, Hermione will tell you to go back and study hard, but I'd take my advice." Sirius got up to leave the room. As he reached the door, he turned back and looked at Harry. "But no matter what happens this year, you should take Hermione to the Graduation Ball."

Harry picked up a handful of Floo powder, shouted "The Burrow!" and stepped through into a shouting match.

* * *

 _1st September_

 _Hogwarts Express_

"I _cannot_ believe he's not coming back, Harry! Quidditch is far from a certain career. He could get hurt. And then, what would he do? He won't have qualifications to fall back on…." Hermione's concerned tone flowed over Harry. Finally, he had to defend Ron.

"Hermione, you knew Ron wasn't going to come back to school. He's not an idiot, but he doesn't _like_ it; if England had asked me to try for a Seeker, I might've tried out as well." He paused for a beat. "Besides, I actually like school and want to go back. But, if Ron makes the team – Hermione, this is _his dream_. Are you going to begrudge him the chance to fulfill his dream? And Ron will have a job when his Quidditch career is over. His brother owns a store. Trust me, he'll be fine without his NEWTs."

Before Hermione could respond, the door to the carriage opened and a familiar blond visage appeared. Draco Malfoy, the pureblood prince. The Slytherin sex god. The youngest Death Eater in history. Hermione felt her hand sliding closer to her bag where her wand was safely stowed.

"Potter, Granger. Could I speak with you both for a moment?"

 _Wait, he was being polite_? Hermione wondered who this wizard was and what he'd done with Draco Malfoy.

"What do you need, Malfoy?" Harry's tone was just short of rude.

Flattening his lips, Draco stepped in and closed the door. He took a deep breath. "I just wanted to thank you for testifying for my mother, Potter. You saved her life; I don't think she would have survived Azkaban. And I'm sorry about what happened to you, Granger. Bellatrix was a crazy bitch. I – I wish I could have done more. If either of you ever need anything from me, let me know."

This all came out in a rush. The silence following it was almost deafening.

"All right then. I'll just be going." Draco turned to leave.

"Wait." Harry stuck out his hand. "You're welcome." Draco shook it. "We," Harry gestured to Hermione, "know there wasn't anything you could have done to stop Bellatrix from doing what she did."

Hermione unconsciously covered her left arm, touching the Mudblood scar hidden beneath her sleeve. She nodded briefly at Draco.

As he turned to leave again, he seemed to realize something was different. "Where's Weasley?"

"Didn't you hear, Malfoy? He's been asked to try out for Keeper." Harry could not resist jabbing at the author of "Weasley is our king."

"For whom? The Cannons? They haven't won a game in 10 years." Draco's contempt for Ron's favorite team seeped into every word.

"Oh, Harry didn't say, did he? For England, Draco, for England." Hermione's tone was so sweet, butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth.

Draco's jaw dropped. Just as quickly, he closed it with an audible snap. "Well, good on him. See you both around."

Harry and Hermione waited for him to leave and the door to close before they dissolved into laughter.

"Can you believe that this is our last September train ride, Harry? I remember the first time we spoke; it was on the train, and you were in a car with Ron."

"Yeah, that's right – you were with Neville, looking for his toad." Just then, Neville came in the car. Harry cocked his head, "Whatever happened to your toad, Neville? What was his name?"

"Uhh, Trevor. Why're you asking about Trevor?"

"Hermione and I were just thinking back. That first train ride. I thought I knew you from somewhere, Hermione. Do you remember that?" Harry hadn't thought about it in years. It really was eerie, that feeling he'd had when he first saw Hermione on the train.

"Actually, I do, Harry. I thought the same thing." Hermione smiled softly in memory. "And I remember I told you and Ron that you needed to get your school robes on."

"And you've been bossing us around ever since." Harry's emerald eyes almost sparked with humor. He turned his attention back to Neville. "How is it, Neville? Glad to be going back?"

"Yeah, Harry, I am. I just don't want my final Hogwarts memories to be those of last year. It was – pretty awful, actually." The two other Gryffindors empathized with him. Their year had been terrible, but at least they weren't dealing with torture on an almost daily basis. "Do you know who's coming back this year? I haven't seen any other Gryffindors on the train. And where's Ron?"

Hermione and Harry exchanged a look. "Well, he's trying out for the English Quidditch team; he didn't come back," Harry volunteered.

"Really? Blimey. That's brilliant," Neville enthused. "But won't that be a bit weird for you?" He looked to Hermione, who stared at him blankly.

"Why?"

"Aren't the two of you -" Neville gestured to Hermione "a, uhh, couple or something?"

"No, Neville, we aren't. We're just friends as we've been for seven years," Hermione sniffed.

Neville settled back on the bench, blinking. "What about you and Gin, Harry?"

Harry pulled a face. "Nope." Then he changed the subject. "Malfoy's back; he was just here, but I don't know about the other Slytherins."

"I saw Daphne Greengrass talking to Pansy Parkinson at the platform." Hermione had noted the two witches, but didn't see many others from their year.

"Malfoy came in here?" Neville was astounded. "What did he want?"

"To apologize, apparently." Harry shrugged, "if he stays out of my way, I'll stay out of his. But he'll never be my friend. Too much water under the bridge."

"I, ah," Hermione sounded uncharacteristically unsure of herself, "I think maybe we should give them – the Slytherins - a chance. Be nice to them. See if it helps."

"Seriously, Hermione? You want to give them a chance?" Neville was clearly remembering last year. "Those Slytherins did some pretty fu – messed up stuff."

"I think maybe Malfoy at least learned his lesson," Hermione retorted. "He sounded pretty sincere earlier."

Neville looked at Harry as if to say, "you want to jump in on this?"

Harry looked at Hermione as if trying to make sense of something. "I think she might be right. Give Malfoy and his friends a chance. What's the harm?"

Neville narrowed his eyes. "I'll think about it; it's not like we're easy marks."

The three Gryffindors laughed, but the sound wasn't necessarily a happy one. No, they weren't soft targets. And it wasn't like they'd ever had a chance to be normal teenagers.

Harry decided to tell his friends about Sirius's request. "Sirius told me that I needed to have a fun year."

"Fun?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, fun, Hermione. Date a few people. Go to parties. Maybe play a few drinking games."

"I thought that was what you were doing this summer. If the Prophet was believed, you had a parade of girlfriends."

Harry gave Hermione a disappointed look. "You know most of those stories weren't true."

"Still, I don't think that going back to school for 'fun' is appropriate. We're going to be at school to get our qualifications, Harry." She turned to Neville. "Tell him, Neville."

Harry looked over at Neville, "yeah, Neville. What do you think?"

"Umm, err." He stopped and thought for a moment. "You know what Hermione, I think Harry's right. I think we've earned the right to a decent year. Voldemort's dead. Why can't we be normal teenagers?"

"Neville! Seriously? Ugh." Hermione picked up her book from beside her. "You boys plan your 'fun' year. I'll be revising because I want to have outstanding qualifications."

Harry looked over at the other wizard. "Don't worry, mate. We'll bring her around."

* * *

 _Welcoming Feast_

 _The Great Hall_

 _Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"Good evening students, and welcome back to Hogwarts." The Headmistress continued with her expected speech, tossing in a few gems about house unity, a few new rules, and then "I'd especially like to welcome back a few students who have returned here to complete their education: our eighth years." Harry snapped to attention, noting that Hermione, as per usual, was totally involved. "Please remain after the feast, and I will discuss…" Harry tuned out again, but a flash of Weasley red hair surprised him. A familiar wizard made his way down the Great Hall and up to the teacher's table.

"The Head Girl this year is Ginevra Weasley of Gryffindor House," McGonagall paused for a moment to allow for applause, "and Head Boy is Kevin Dorchester of Hufflepuff House." The Hufflepuff table went wild for the most popular member of their house since Cedric Diggory.

McGonagall finally wound down her speech with "I'd like to introduce our new professors this year, Professor William Weasley with Defense Against the Dark Arts…." She could not continue as the entirety of the Gryffindor table rose, clapping, stomping, and whistling. After Bill shook his head, silently urging them to settle down and a stinging admonition from McGonagall, the Headmistress completed her introductions.

"Let us eat!" The food appeared at her bidding and the students tucked in.

"At least we'll have a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Hermione was pleasantly surprised by the hire. "I'm surprised the Weasleys didn't mention it, though."

Harry shrugged, "Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? Bill probably didn't let Molly tell us so it wouldn't influence our decisions, but Ron wasn't going to come back anyway, no matter what. And she probably thought it'd be a nice surprise."

Neville gave a short laugh, "Ha! Like you lot need a DADA teacher. I think you've got it covered."

"Oh, Neville, there's so much we need to know. Bill really is quite a good choice…." Hermione launched into professor mode, much to Harry's amusement. It was funny how well she took to teaching. _Maybe she'll be a professor one day. Maybe we can both come back to teach. We could be the Professors Potter. Wait - what am I thinking? Sirius told me to play the field, get out, have fun._ And Hermione hadn't mentioned anything about dating. _Maybe she wants to keep it as friends._ After dipping food onto his plate, Harry soon became uncomfortably aware of the number of eyes on him, and, glancing around the room, he realized that not all the eyes were on him; many of the male eyes were on Hermione. Abruptly, he recalled Sirius's advice to escort Hermione to the Graduation Ball. Perhaps he should act on that advice sooner rather than later; the thought of Hermione dancing with with any of those wizards gave him an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Leaning to the side, he addressed the object of his ruminations. "Uh, Hermione, is it me, or are an awful lot of people staring at us?"

"Don't be silly, Ha –" Hermione stopped. "You're right. They are."

"Why?"

"Harry, really. It's obvious, isn't it? All the 'Golden Trio' nonsense in the papers. They'll get over it."

"I hope they get over it soon. It's bloody uncomfortable."

After the feast, the twelve returning eighth-year students remained in the hall. Harry couldn't help but notice that this group, thankfully, didn't have the staring problem the rest of the school did. But this group was missing some pretty obvious people. He counted, three Gryffindors, four Slytherins, three Hufflepuffs, and only two Ravenclaws. He turned to Hermione to get her opinion. "Why didn't more Ravenclaws come back? I'd have thought most of them would."

"Most of them sat their NEWTs last year, Harry. I talked to Padma earlier on the train about it. She said that several families pooled resources and had tutors for intensive training. She just decided to come back rather than get married, like Parvati did."

"Holy shit, Parvati's married?" Harry couldn't believe it.

Hermione shrugged. "Yes, Harry, it's traditional in Pureblood society to marry young. I imagine several of our classmates will be getting married soon. Ask Malfoy; I'm sure his wedding is already arranged."

Harry snorted at the thought of asking Malfoy anything that personal. "Ron never said anything about that. And Bill just got married."

Hermione sent him an arch look. "The Weasleys are hardly standard Purebloods, despite being part of the Sacred 28. Ask Sirius; he'll tell you. And your parents got married right out of Hogwarts, remember, Harry?" Just then, McGonagall called for their attention.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm so glad to have you all back this year. We have several new policies in place for your year. First of all, you'll not be rooming with your Houses." Everyone exchanged uneasy glances. "Your tower is off the fourth floor, overlooking the Quidditch Pitch. You'll have your own common room and restrooms to yourselves. You are all of age, so you'll be allowed to visit Hogsmeade at the weekends, and you'll have no official curfew, except in extraordinary circumstances. In exchange for these privileges, you will be expected to set an example for all students to follow. Professors are authorized to ask any and all of you for your assistance with their classes and grading. Finally, you will be rooming with one other student, and your rooms have been assigned. Please do not make any protest as these assignments are final."

"Excuse me, Headmistress, what about Quidditch?"

"Mr. Potter, you are still Gryffindor Quidditch captain, if you'd like to retain the position. Mr. Malfoy, the same applies to you for Slytherin House." At their nods, she continued. "You both should be planning try-outs for the coming weeks. If you have any questions, please see Madame Hooch. Any other questions for the good of the group?"

Hermione was still slightly confused. "Are we still part of our Houses, Headmistress?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. Your actions will earn or cost your House points. However, you'll not room with your Houses, and you'll sit with your fellow eighth years at evening meals. Other meals will be with your Houses. Also, each House will be in charge of one social event for the year. As eighth years, I expect you to take the lead in planning. The fall events are a Halloween Masque and the Yule Ball. In the spring, we'll celebrate the spring renewal in March and the traditional Graduation Ball."

"Which House will plan which event?" Pansy Parkinson had been silent up to that point.

"I'll leave you all to decide that, Miss Parkinson. Please submit that information to me by Friday at lunch." McGonagall looked around. "If there are no other questions, please follow me."

Hermione walked between Harry and Neville to the new eighth year quarters. When they arrived at their portrait entrance of a Knight and his Lady, she turned to face them. "Your password for the month is _Ollivander_. Please keep it to yourselves."

The door opened to a large, circular common room with doors opening off of it; names were emblazoned on bronze or pewter plaques with the House emblems on either side of the names. Two restrooms were situated to the left and right, one for witches and one for wizards. A huge fireplace was directly opposite the main door and large comfortable chairs with ottomans and two-seater couches were grouped about it.

The group spread out, looking for their rooms. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry and Malfoy both stop in their tracks at the first room.

"Oh bloody, buggering hell!" Harry was not happy.

Malfoy spat, "Like I want to room with you, Potter." Their door opened, apparently of its own accord.

From across the room, Hermione giggled, until she had a horrible thought. What if she had to room with Pansy? She quickly found her name; to her relief, Daphne Greengrass was at the same door. Daphne had always been polite to her, at least.

As they walked into their room, which also opened at their presence, the witches let out audible gasps. The beds were covered with cream comforters, but Hermione's bed had red and gold trimmings while Daphne's bed had silver and green. Each of them had a wardrobe, a desk, and a chest of drawers. Their trunks were already situated at the foot of their four-poster beds. The window, as promised, looked out over a portion of the Quidditch Pitch.

Hermione debated a moment, should she go check on Harry? Besides, she wanted to see their room. Decision made, she turned to Daphne. "I'm going to go check on Harry and see where everyone is roomed. Do you want to come with?"

"I need to talk to Pansy, but let me know what happens." They left, Daphne towards Pansy's room and Hermione across the common room. When she arrived at the boys' door, Hermione lifted her arm to knock and managed only one brief tap before the door was wrenched open.

"What the fuck do you want, Granger?" Malfoy snarled.

Before Hermione could open her mouth to formulate a reply, Harry jumped into the fray. "Oi! Malfoy, don't talk to her that way. You can be an arsehole to me all you want, but fuck all if you're going to speak to her that way."

Malfoy opened his mouth to fire back at Harry, but when he looked into the other wizard's eyes, he re-considered. Jerking his chin up at Harry, he acknowledged the other wizard's statement.

Taking a deep breath, Malfoy turned back to Hermione. "Granger, I apologize; I shouldn't have been so rude. Can I help you with something?" His tone was strictly controlled, but polite. Hermione briefly considered taking the mickey, but given the apparently thin thread of control Malfoy had on his temper, she decided to be polite rather than antagonistic.

"No, thank you, Malfoy. I was just coming over to see Harry." He swept his arm around in a "welcome in" manner. Hermione stepped forward into the room. It was a virtual clone of her own, except the bed coverings were more masculine, and the window showed a wider view of the Pitch. Before they could get comfortable, a voice called them to the common room.

"We need to decide which Houses will be sponsoring the socials this year." Pansy and Daphne had apparently appointed themselves the social chairs of the group. The eighth years situated themselves comfortably on the chairs and couches before the fireplace.

"We," Pansy gestured to Daphne "thought that we could draw for the events."

"Do we have to do this now?" Neville sounded exasperated that this was even a concern on their first night back.

"Get over it, Longbottom. It'll be less painful to give them their way. We'll be hearing about it until they do." Malfoy's tone was dry.

At Neville's resigned sigh, Daphne took over. "Hannah, you can draw for Hufflepuff, Hermione for Gryffindor, Padma for Ravenclaw, and Pansy for Slytherin." She dropped each event into a bowl. "Everyone draw, but don't look until we all have one." Each of the girls went forward and pulled a paper. "What did you get?"

"Graduation Ball!" Pansy was ecstatic. Blaise and Draco rolled their eyes. It was going to be the biggest Graduation Ball the school had seen in twenty years with those two witches in charge.

Daphne looked quite happy that result. "Right. Who got the Halloween Masque?"

Padma spoke up. "I did."

"Yule Ball?"

"Gryffindor for the Yule Ball." Hermione did not sound nearly as excited as Pansy had.

"So, Hufflepuff for the Spring Revival?"

Hannah nodded.

"Very good. I'll let McGonagall know, and get our budgets. This is so exciting!" Daphne was already in planning mode.

"Right then, can we go back to our rooms?" Harry was feeling out of sorts; he wanted to get settled and think about something other than balls and socials. And he needed to talk to Sirius.

* * *

 **A/N** : We find out why Harry wants to talk to Sirius in the beginning of the next chapter. Have you ever noticed that sometimes there are people out there who know us better than ourselves? That they often have insights that we lack because maybe we are too close to a situation?

I appreciate the encouragement that reviews afford, so if you have something positive to say, by all means, please tell me.

I'd also like to say "thank you!" to LJ Summers who essentially wrote the summary. You should check out her _Casting the Stake_ , which is a Hermione/Weasley story written in the _Bespoke Witch_ (glittergrrrl05) AU. Very fun.

This story is about a week ahead on Bewitching Fiction and will remain so. Ch. 2 goes up there this week (it's currently read to beta), but FF won't get it until next week. So, if you want the story updates more quickly, you'll have to join us there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Beta love: glittergrrrl05**

 **A/N:** I realize the timeline may be off here and there, but this is an AU, and I'm twisting canon to fit my plot. Thanks for understanding!

* * *

 **Ch. 2**

 _June 1978_

 _Hogwarts School_

"I won't pretend to understand how you can even _think_ of marrying a Mu – Muggle born, Sirius. You _know_ Mother and Father will blast you off the family tree for this. Does she mean more to you than our family?"

"Reggie, you'll always be my brother. But those two vipers masquerading as our parents? I don't give a fuck about their opinions. Now, will you be there or not?"

Identical gray eyes met. "I don't know." Regulus turned to leave but stopped before he reached the door. Still facing the exit, he added, "You'll always be my brother, too, Sirius. No matter what." He walked out on silent feet and pulled the door closed behind him.

Sirius stared at the portal long after it was closed. "I love you, Reggie."

Two weeks later at his wedding, Sirius did not see the shadowed figure in the trees watching his outdoor wedding from afar. Nor did he see the man absently rubbing his forearm as if to erase some imperfection.

* * *

 _1 September 1998_

 _Hogwarts School_

Harry breathed a sigh of relief to get back to the room. Malfoy left almost immediately, tossing a "I'm going to check out Blaise's room" over his shoulder.

Harry wasted no time digging out his two-way mirror to call Sirius.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Nothing, really. It's just different being here. Lots of stares and talking behind hands. And I've got to room with Malfoy." Harry couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice. "He got shirty with Hermione –"

"You didn't let that stand, did you?"

"You think I'd let that stand?" Harry's sarcasm would have done Malfoy proud.

"No, I guess you didn't." Sirius chuckled. "Have you asked her to the Graduation Ball yet?"

"Not yet. I thought I would soon, though."

"You'd better. She's grown into a beautiful young lady. She reminds me of…. Nevermind. That's not why you called me. What do you need?"

"It's a couple of things." Harry paused to consider where to start. He decided to complain about his roommate first. "I'm pissed. I wanted to room in Gryffindor tower, but instead I have to room with Draco sodding Malfoy. It's not like he wants to room with me either. It's some house unity shite."

Sirius absorbed the complaints, nodding his head. "I get it, Harry. But how much time do you spend in your room, anyway? Come to an agreement with him. He might not be so bad now that Lucius is in Azkaban for the next fifteen years. Narcissa wasn't bad until Lucius got hands on her. I know she wasn't happy about blasting 'Dromeda off the family tree. Maybe give him a chance."

"I didn't expect you to say that."

Harry could see Sirius shrug in the mirror. "I know. And if he's shirty with Hermione again, then I'll change my mind. But I want you to have a good year before you settle down."

 _Settle down_. That reminded Harry of his conversation with Hermione earlier. "Hey Sirius, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything, Harry."

"Do pureblood witches and wizards really marry right out of school?"

Sirius looked at Harry with solemnity. "Often, yeah, they do. Actually, it's pretty common in our world. Why?"

"It's…it's nothing, I guess. I just heard one of the girls in my year is already married, that's all."

"Your parents were married at your age, Harry. So was I."

"Wait. What? You were _married_? What happened? How did I not know about this?"

"I was. She was a Muggle-born." Sirius looked unbearably sad. "She and our daughter." Sirius stopped and wiped away a tear. "She took our daughter and fled with her the night your parents were killed. I told her to take Catriona and go. They found her." He paused to regain control. "Ministry officials found her remains. And my daughter." He choked up again. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about this right now. Can we discuss it later?"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course, Sirius, of course. I didn't know." Harry didn't have the right words.

"I know you didn't." Sirius pulled himself together. "I'll tell you about it at Christmas. But, your question. Yes, wizarding marriages are young. And most families aren't the size of the Weasleys'. If you marry younger, you may have more children. Purebloods, especially, need all the time they can get. Pregnancies are hard, and getting harder for Purebloods."

"Hermione'd probably say it's too much inbreeding," Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hermione'd be right. Malfoy's your cousin, you know." Sirius gave him an infectious grin. "You really could do worse than her."

"Yeah, I know. Wait, what? Malfoy is my cousin?" Harry didn't realize that.

"He is. Third cousin or something. I'll check the tree for you." Harry could see the passing walls of Grimmauld Place as Sirius made his way into the Tapestry room.

"Okay, right here…it looks like you are third cousins. That's barely related, but yeah – third. Huh."

"What is it?"

"My picture – look at it." Sirius turned his mirror to show Harry the tapestry. "It's repaired."

"Wicked." Harry was still shocked by the sentient magic that he felt and saw in the Wizarding World.

"I'm tempted to blast it off again." Sirius was only half-joking.

"No, don't do that. Let me talk to Hermi—" Harry stopped because right then, Malfoy walked into the room. "Listen, I've got to go."

"I'll talk to you later then, Harry."

"Yeah, you too, Sirius."

"I didn't know you had a two-way mirror, Potter." Malfoy's voice was devoid of his usual sarcasm.

Harry nodded. "It's good. Muggles have telephones that they can carry everywhere, but this works just as well, at least to talk to Sirius." Harry retreated to his bed to think.

* * *

 _After midnight_

 _8_ _th_ _Year Tower_

"Nooooo! Please stop! Don't!"

Harry and Draco sat straight up in their beds.

"What the fu –" Draco began.

Harry was already headed to the door at a dead run, wand in hand; he'd never broken the habit of sleeping with it under his pillow. But he knew that voice and that scream. He didn't slow down in the common room and burst through the door to Hermione's room.

"Hermione, wake up, it's only a dream…" Daphne was trying to wake Hermione, but she refused to respond.

"Move, Daphne." Harry crawled onto Hermione's bed and gathered her in his arms.

"It's okay, Hermione. It's over." He whispered comforting words into her ear. "Shh, shh." At his voice, Hermione's screams calmed to whimpers almost immediately and she began to wake up.

A knock sounded at the door. Daphne got up from her perch on the side of the bed to answer it. Draco and most of the eighth years waited on the other side.

"Is she okay?" Neville was the first to speak. "What happened?"

Harry answered. "Nightmare."

At this point, Hermione realized that she had disturbed an entire dorm and that a shirtless Harry Potter was holding her in his arms on her bed with entire said dorm watching. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she whispered to Harry. He nodded and let her go. She raised her voice so everyone could hear."I'm so sorry to disturb everyone. I thought I was past the nightmares. I'll make sure to get a Dreamless Sleep Draught."

The crowd dispersed back to their rooms, but Draco waited at the door. "It was Bellatrix, wasn't it?"

Hermione clenched her jaw and gave him a single nod.

"I'm glad that bitch is dead, Granger." He turned and stalked back to his room.

Hermione turned back to Harry. "Thank you for coming, Harry. I'm fine now, I promise."

"You're sure? I can stay. I'll stay." Harry had no problem sleeping with her if it would help.

"No, no. I'm fine."

Harry considered her face and decided she was telling the truth, mostly. He kissed her forehead. "Alright. I'll go. But you know where I am if you need me. And I can be here in seconds. Just yell."

Hermione smiled at his small joke as he got up to leave. She frowned when he closed the door behind him. Something was off, and she wasn't sure what it was. She definitely needed that dreamless sleep potion.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you, Daphne. I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again."

Daphne was nothing if not understanding. "Don't think a thing about it, Hermione. We all have our nightmares."

"Thanks for letting him in, Daphne. He's probably the best person to help me with this kind of thing."

Daphne sent her an odd look. "I didn't let him in. The door just didn't stop him."

"That's not … normal. Is it? I mean, have you ever heard of that?" Hermione was honestly confused; she'd never heard of such a thing.

* * *

 _Before Breakfast the Next Morning_

 _Madame Pomfrey's Office_

"Of course I'll give you a potion, dear. But these are addictive, so you can't take them for very long."

Hermione nodded her assent. "I'm sure it's just the transition back to school, Madame Pomfrey. I'd just hate to wake everyone up again tonight."

After getting the potion, Hermione thanked Madame Pomfrey and left. She didn't see the considering look on the older witch's face.

* * *

 _Breakfast_

 _The Great Hall_

Harry dropped down beside Hermione at the Gryffindor table and immediately began to fill his plate. "What happened last night, Hermione?"

"I can't describe it. I was back at Malfoy Manor, and it was _that day_. It was like I was reliving the whole thing, but instead of using a knife, she was using a wand to carve into my skin. And I could feel myself changing." Hermione shook her head as if to clear a fog. "I've never had that kind of dream before Harry."

"I get them too, you know. Dreams. That Voldemort is still alive. That Nagini is slithering towards me, mouth open." Harry shuddered. "I don't know if they'll ever go away." After a pause, he continued, "I think Malfoy does as well. He mutters in his sleep, tosses and turns."

Hermione looked consideringly over at the blond who was deep in discussion with his housemate, Blaise Zabini, one of their fellow eighth year students. Malfoy always seemed so incapable of deeper emotions. For whatever reason, it quickly reminded her that Draco had to knock the night before whereas Harry did not.

"Did you notice that you didn't have to knock to get in our room last night, Harry? How did you do it?"

Harry's fork stopped on its way to his mouth. He slowly lowered it to his plate. "I don't know. It just opened."

Before he could finish his thought, Neville sat down across from them. He'd grown up and into his looks. Hermione distantly wondered if he realized how good-looking he actually was. After acknowledging her, Neville turned to Harry and began talking Quidditch. Hermione tuned them out until Neville said her name.

"So, Hermione," he paused and waited for her redirect her attention, "I know it's a bit early, but I was wondering…would you go with me to the Yule Ball?" He paused, and then hastily added, "as friends, I mean?"

Hermione blinked. _This was unexpected._ But, "Of course, Neville. I'd love to go on your arm."

Beside her, Harry fought to control his face. _Bloody hell, I'd better ask her to the Graduation Ball soon. If I wait, then she's likely find another date_. Just then, Bill, the new Gryffindor Head, came by the table, handing out schedules.

"Harry, Hermione, and Neville…here you go. I'll see you all later this morning." Bill was very chipper for first thing on a Monday morning.

After comparing schedules, they realized that they all shared the same classes, except Arithmancy, which Hermione alone was taking of the returning Gryffindors. Harry was only taking six subjects: Potions, DADA, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and Ancient Runes. Neville shared the same schedule.

"Are you planning to enter Auror training then, Neville?" Hermione recognized the five required NEWT levels for Auror program, and the addition of Ancient Runes as being very helpful in that profession.

The young wizard stammered a bit. "I had thought I would. M' parents, you know. And helping defeat Voldemort…." His voice trailed off.

"I think you'll make a brilliant Auror, Neville." Hermione reached out and squeezed Neville's hand. He'd led the student army in fight against Voldemort; Harry carried the burden of truly destroying the Voldemort, but Neville faced evil every day here at Hogwarts with the Carrows and their ilk.

"You really think so, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, and Harry spoke up. "They'd be fools not to take you, Neville. And Kingsley's no fool. We couldn't have defeated Voldemort without you, and I'd go to battle with you any day."

Just then the gong sounded, signaling the end of breakfast; they gathered their books and headed to Advanced Charms.

* * *

 _Advanced Charms_

 _Flitwick's Classroom_

Harry had been uncharacteristically quiet on the way to Charms. As they settled into their seats, he appeared to reach a decision and turned abruptly to Hermione.

"Listen, it's way too early to ask this, but I'm going to anyway. I'd like to escort you to the Graduation Ball. We started here together and we've been through so much, and I just – I just want you to be with me as we prepare to leave." This all came out in a rush.

Hermione's whiskey-colored eyes widened, and her lips turned up at the corners. "Oh, Harry. That's so sweet. Of course I'll go to the Graduation Ball with you. But if you start dating someone else seriously and want to go with them, I'll understand."

"Isn't this sweet?" Malfoy's mocking drawl interrupted the moment. He, with Blaise, had settled into the desk behind them. "Asking to the Graduation Ball already? A bit insecure, are we, Potter? Scared of the competition?"

Hermione opened her mouth to blast Malfoy with her temper, but Harry stopped her. "Please, Malfoy. You're just jealous that you didn't get a chance to ask."

"As if I would ask a-" Hermione's eyebrows shot up and Harry's eyes narrowed "bookworm to accompany me to a ball." Malfoy smirked at their obvious assumption. Then he looked over Hermione consideringly. "But you might be onto something there, Potter. Granger has grown up good."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but Hermione beat him to the punch. "Too bad I can't say the same for you, ferret. Do _you_ even have an escort for either of the Balls this year?"

"Welcome, students!" Professor Flitwick called the class to order, interrupting the exchange at the back of the room.

* * *

 _Dinner_

 _That evening_

 _The Great Hall_

"Alright, so we can call a meeting of all interested fifth through seventh year Gryffindors who would like to be on the planning committee. Sunday afternoon, you think? 3 o'clock?"

Ginny took quick notes in her planner. "Yeah. I'll talk to some of them. I think we can get a good group together. Which House is planning the Halloween Masque?"

"Ravenclaw got it. Padma is over at their table now." Both Hermione and Ginny glanced up to see Padma and Luna deep in conversation. "I wonder how that's going to go."

Ginny laughed out loud. "I can't wait to see Luna's costume."

"It's bound to be wonderfully creative, isn't it?" Hermione looked over at the ethereal blond with genuine affection. "What about you, have you decided on a costume?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. "I don't know yet. But we could go as a pair. You know, Guinevere and the Lady of the Lake. Or a pair of British queens? Like Elizabeth and Victoria?"

"I think you'd make a brilliant young Elizabeth! You have to do it." Hermione scrunched her nose. "But I don't want to go as Victoria. I like the idea of going as Guinevere, though." She shrugged. "We've got a bit of time. We'll work on it."

Hermione gathered her books to leave, but stopped before she stood. She debated on whether to tell Ginny about Neville and Harry's plans to "be young" and their subsequent asking her to the Yule and Graduation Balls. After a moment's deliberation, she decided that Ginny needed to know.

"Ginny, I'd like your opinion."

The redhead looked at the brunette in anticipation. "Go on, then."

"On the train on the way here, Harry and Neville decided that they were going to enjoy themselves this year." And at right that moment, the pair of wizards in question strode down the aisle towards the eighth year table. Half of the witches in the Great Hall followed the progress of the pair of tall wizards, both dark haired, confident, and relaxed. Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes at the titters and giggles.

But if titters and giggles followed Neville and Harry, sighs sounded in the wake of an another pair of wizards some distance behind them. Draco and Blaise were a study in contrasts, light and dark. Their eyes roamed the hall as they made their way to the eighth year table. Blaise's eyes lingered ever so briefly at the Gryffindor table, where he caught Ginny's eye and gave her the slyest wink Hermione had ever seen. A small sigh sounded beside Hermione from her friend. She turned to Ginny, "but never mind about Harry and Neville; did Blaise just _wink_ at you?"

"What? No." At Hermione's arched brows, Ginny groaned. "Oh, fine. It's Blaise. He's such a flirt. And he's so…." Her voice trailed off and she shivered. Shaking herself, Ginny turned back to Hermione. "Anyway, never mind that. What were you saying about Neville and Harry?"

"Oh, they've decided to 'be normal teenagers,' whatever that means. Then Neville asked me to the Yule Ball, just as friends. And _then_ , Harry asked me to the Graduation Ball." She gave a small smile. "Harry was pretty sweet – he said that we started here together and he wanted us to end our time here together. I said yes to him, but I just wanted to make sure you're, ahh, okay with it, because, you know. I mean, I'm sure he asked as friends; I just don't…." her voice trailed off.

"You're joking, right? You know you don't need my permission to go with Harry. I might have dated him but he's yours, Hermione."

"What're you talking about? We're just friends. Always have been."

"Oh, just friends. Well, alright. Okay. If you say so." Ginny grasped Hermione's hand as it lay on the table. "Harry and I didn't work, but I appreciate you telling me about the ball." She looked up at the wizards situated at the eighth table. "I'm a bit jealous of the Neville ask, though. He's . . . he's hot, Hermione."

"I know, right?" Hermione tried to keep the gush out of her voice. "I mean, who knew? Puberty was kind to him." Just then the gong sounded to begin dinner. "Oh, I've got to go. You want me to put in a good word for you with Neville? Or Blaise?"

"No need. I've got this." Ginny was supremely confident. "See you later!"

As Hermione approached the table, she heard Harry and Neville discussing Quidditch, of course. The first match was between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw this year, and Harry was planning tryouts. Settling down next to Harry and pulling out her Charms book to revise, Hermione was disrupted by a rather pushy Ravenclaw and her friend. About to scold the girl for literally elbowing her out of the way, Hermione closed her mouth with a snap when she began to speak.

"Hullo, Harry! I'm Felicity, and this is my friend Emmeline. We were wondering if you and Neville would go with us on the first Hogsmeade weekend."

Much to her chagrin Hermione felt a twinge of jealousy, but she immediately buried it as she waited for Harry's response. Harry and Neville exchanged glances. Even though they'd decided to enjoy this year, they weren't expecting to be propositioned in the Great Hall. At the same time, a chair scraping on the floor drew Hermione's attention. The entire table and the two Ravenclaws watched as Blaise walked to Ginny at the Gryffindor table and nudged Dennis Creevy to the side.

Before Hermione had a chance to speculate what was going on, Draco leaned forward and spoke to her. "So, Hermione, I'd be honored if you'd accompany me to Hogsmeade on our first weekend." He glanced over at Blaise, who was returning to the table. "Your friend, Ginny, is it? She's agreed to accompany Blaise, and I thought we could have a double date."

Hermione felt her world tilt on its axis. _Merlin's hairy balls, had she fallen down Alice's rabbit hole? Had Draco Malfoy just asked her out on a date?_ She spun around to look at Ginny who nodded at her. _What in Godric's name was going on?_ Just then, she became aware of passing time and the stares from Harry, Neville, and the two Ravenclaws; she made an abrupt decision. "Why, thank you so much, Draco. It would be lovely to accompany you to Hogsmeade." If Harry was going to date around and have fun, then she could as well. Sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose, after all.

Hermione's response spurred Harry's decision. "Of course, Felicity; we can go to Hogsmeade with you. We'll just tag along with Draco and Hermione. Neville, what do you say?"

"Right. Sounds great, Harry. Emmeline, we'll meet you and Felicity in the main doorway at 11 on the Hogsmeade weekend."

If she hadn't been looking so closely at Draco, she would have missed the self-satisfied expression that flashed across his expression before he assumed his usual haughty mask. And for the first time, Hermione realized that Draco's facial expression was just that – a mask. _Now what was he up to, the sneaky snake_?

* * *

 _After Dinner_

 _Room #1_

 _Eighth Tower_

"Want to tell me what you're on about, Malfoy?" Throwing his bag on his bed, Harry wasted no time on pleasantries.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Potter. And if I did, what business is what I do of yours?" Draco spat out.

"Asking _Hermione_ on a date? Really? What. Are. You. On. About?" Harry was seething. "Because we both know you don't think she's worthy of you, a 'pureblood.'"

"Are you saying your best friend is an unattractive witch, one whom I'm not attracted to?"

"No, you tosser. I'm not saying that. Hermione is gorgeous and _my_ best friend. She's too damn good for the likes of you."

"Who's the prejudiced one now, Potter?" Draco clenched his jaw so tightly it was a bloody wonder he didn't crack a tooth. "Why is it so inconceivable that I'd like to go on a date with Hermione?"

"You're taking the piss, right? You've treated her worse than shit for years, you wanker."

"Stop being an arsehole, Potter. You asked her to go the Graduation Ball with you 'as friends'," Draco rolled his eyes. "If you're just friends, why don't you let her make up her own mind?"

It was Harry's turn to grind his teeth into nubs. "I swear to Godric, if you hurt her I will _Avada_ you myself." He turned and slammed out the door.

Draco allowed himself a full-fledged smirk as he watched Saint Potter storm out.

* * *

 _Seconds Later_

 _Room # 2_

 _Eighth Tower_

"He's being a right prick, Neville. Why the fuck would Malfoy ask Hermione on a date?"

Neville watched Harry pace the room and rant about his roommate. Whilst he agreed it was certainly odd that given Malfoy's past that he was interested in Hermione, Neville couldn't quite understand why Harry was over-reacting this way.

"He's up to something. I swear I'll kill him if he hurts her."

"Ah, Harry, why are you so worried?" Neville asked the obvious question in his mind. "Hermione can take care of herself."

"I know she can take care of herself against Voldemort, but this is _Malfoy_ we're talking about here. She's the one who wants to give all the Slytherins a chance, remember?" He stopped when Neville laughed at him, one of those full, belly laughs that carried. "What's so damn funny?"

"Do you hear yourself? You just said that Hermione could handle herself against the most powerful dark wizard _of all time_ , and then said that she couldn't handle Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Remember him? Our age? Blond? Sort of ferrety looking?" Neville composed himself. "What's your problem?"

Harry felt his jaw tighten again. "Godric, it sounds stupid when you say it that way. I just don't want her to get hurt." He suspected why he was reacting the way he was, but it wouldn't do to confide in Neville. Not that Neville would betray him, but Harry just wasn't ready to confront his very deep feelings for Hermione. Not yet, anyway. But that wasn't going to stop him from protecting her. "I'm going to go. I need to talk to her."

"Harry." Neville grabbed Harry's arm to stop him from leaving. "I'd not say anything to her right now. You'll just piss her off."

The hand on his arm brought Harry back to reality, and he nodded. Neville was right, so he went to the common room to sit in front of the fireplace. Merlin's rod, he wasn't in the mood to deal with Draco sodding Malfoy right now.

* * *

 _Around Midnight_

 _8_ _th_ _Tower_

Once again a scream rang out over the tower. Harry was already on his way by the time the shrill noise finished echoing, and Hermione was in his arms seconds after that.

"Why is this happening, Harry? I took the Dreamless Sleep Potion. I swear I did," Hermione whimpered.

Harry looked over at Daphne for confirmation. She nodded. "Come on, Hermione, let's go sit by the fireplace." Their bed clothes were modest enough for public viewing, not that Harry cared for himself. After settling themselves into one of the oversized chairs with a cushy ottoman, he asked, "Was it the same?"

He felt her shake her head. "No, it was different. This time, Bellatrix wasn't just carving into my arm, she was skinning me. Oh, Godric, Harry, what's wrong with me?"

They talked late into the night, finally dozing off, and neither noticed the pair of eyes watching them. Or a watcher watching the watcher.

* * *

 _Wednesday Afternoon, Before Dinner_

 _Room #4_

 _The Eighth Tower_

"Hermione," Daphne dragged her roommate's attention from her revisions. "I was wondering, and you don't have to answer, but why do you always use Muggle make-up? And cover-up? We have spells for those sorts of things, you know."

Hermione smirked and tossed her quill down onto her parchment. This twelve-inch parchment for Slughorn wasn't due until next Friday, anyway. "You won't believe me if I tell you."

"Try me."

"Beauty spells don't work. I can't change my appearance with a spell."

Daphne looked dumbfounded. "That can't be right. You must be doing them wrong."

Hermione responded with a short laugh. "Really? How you do them, then? Because every one I've ever tried didn't work."

Her Slytherin roommate seemed to take that as a challenge. "Alright then, let's start with something simple. How about a covering spell? This is how you do it…."

An hour later, Daphne was convinced. She had only been able to get one spell to stick, turning Hermione's eyebrows a much darker shade of brown, but even then it had only worked for a few moments. But she was pleased for another reason. In the hour in which they worked together, she and Hermione had begun a tentative bond of friendship. The self-serving side of Daphne was pleased because it could only be a positive for her to be friends with a war heroine. The more human side was just glad to be making another friend, one whom Daphne genuinely liked. And she could tell that Hermione felt the same.

* * *

 _Thursday Dinner_

 _The Great Hall_

"Good evening, students. I trust your terms have started well. It has been brought to my attention that some students are having difficulty adjusting to a return to school." McGonagall's eyes deliberately skimmed the entire Great Hall, resting on no one person or table. "Consequently, next week we will begin a mandatory counseling programme. Each year and House will have group counseling classes. If individual sessions are determined necessary, they will be arranged on a case-by-case basis."

Harry and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances at this unwelcome news. Neither of them were excited about sharing their nightmares with the group. Hermione could not help but notice that Malfoy looked as if he'd swallowed something bitter himself.

Daphne leaned over and whispered, "Oh, this new class will be a barrel of fun, won't it? Sharing our deepest, darkest secrets with twelve of our closest friends. Yay."

Still unused to having a friend who was a girl aside from Ginny who was almost a sister, Hermione just smiled weakly. Truthfully, it was hard to see how much good could come out of this class and the private sessions sure to follow.

* * *

 _Friday Breakfast_

 _The Great Hall_

The owls swooped down, delivering their burdens. Hermione opened her _Daily Prophet_ to a most unwelcome sight. The headline screamed:

GOLDEN TRIO NOW THE GOLDEN DUO?

Details inside on 6A

The headline was accompanied by an old photo of Ron, Hermione, and Harry taken after the Battle of Hogwarts with Ron torn from Hermione and Harry. A smaller photo showed Hermione and Harry boarding the Hogwarts Express and waving good-bye to Ron on the platform. Harry spotted the headline at the same time as Hermione and they wordlessly flipped to page 6A to view the damage.

It was worse than either of them expected.

 _The two have apparently grown closer since their return to Hogwarts, and Mr. Potter was spotted in Miss Granger's bedroom, half naked. Dear readers, what has happened to the standards of morality parents expect from the ancient school of Hogwarts? Can they be trusted with our children?_

 _Even worse, the couple appears to be very public in their affections as they have also taken to sleeping with one another in the commons room for their house. Unfortunately, our top secret source inside Hogwarts was unable to obtain photographic evidence of the scandalous trysts….I ask again, given lax moral standards in evidence, can we trust Hogwarts with our children? Headmistress McGonagall did not immediately respond to my request for comment on this story. I am on the job and will report any news._

Titters were growing around the room.

"I'm going to kill Rita Skeeter. She's going to Azkaban. I warned her," Hermione hissed to Harry. "And who told?"

"She's not the author, Hermione, it's this Babette Varrette woman." Before Harry could continue, a familiar voice interrupted their sotto voice conversation.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, after breakfast, please meet me in my office immediately after breakfast. The password is _loyalty_. Professor Weasley is aware of your appointment with me." The Headmistress briefly squeezed Hermione's shoulder; it was a comforting gesture, but Hermione was hollow inside. Someone had betrayed them; someone made their innocent relationship into something sordid and wrong. She felt her anger morph into hurt and the hot tears built in her eyes.

Harry draped his arm around her shoulder. "We'll fix this, Hermione, make her print a retraction."

Daphne rose from her seat at the Slytherin table with Blaise, Draco, and Pansy. She came to sit beside Hermione. "We'll help. We'll deny the rumors. There's no proof. And we'll find out who is behind this and make them pay."

"What can you do, Daphne? There's a bit of truth to them all." Hermione sounded a little broken, but Harry knew her; she'd bounce back from this stronger than ever.

Daphne glanced over at Draco; whatever she saw in his eyes must have satisfied her. "Hermione, whoever this person is won't know what hit them. I give you my word as a Slytherin and a Greengrass, we' will find out who did this."

Neville, from Harry's left, leaned forward to add his support. "She's right, you know; we'll figure it out. They'll pay."

* * *

 _After Breakfast_

 _Friday_

 _Headmistress's Office_

Harry and Hermione sat before McGonagall's desk feeling a bit like second years being called in front of their head of house. But it was a gauge of the seriousness of the situation that they were, in fact, in front of the Headmistress as opposed to Bill, their Head of House.

McGonagall, hands stacked on her desk, viewed them over the top of her spectacles, allowing the uncomfortable silence to stretch. Even the normally chatty portraits were quiet, awaiting the confrontation. Snape's sneer was firmly in place while Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at them, apparently amused at their discomfort.

"Which of you would like to explain to me what is going on in the eighth tower? Frankly, I expected better of both of you."

After exchanging a brief glance with Harry, Hermione spoke up first. "Headmistress, I've been having nightmares, you see. And the first night we were here, I must have screamed in my sleep."

Harry picked up the tale. "I was in my room, asleep, when I heard her and so I ran to her room to see what was wrong. I didn't stop to put on a shirt. So that's why I was in her room 'half naked.'" Harry used air quotations to bookend the article's accusation. "Headmistress, you can ask any of our Tower mates; they all heard it and most of them saw exactly what was going on. It was perfectly innocent."

McGonagall's expression remained stern. "And the next bit? Sleeping together in the commons?"

Hermione shook her head. "It sounds so tawdry. I had another nightmare. Harry and I were sitting in front of the fireplace, and he was holding me. Nothing happened!"

"I'm quite sure you are telling the truth, Miss Granger. However, I must deal with the repercussions of this." She held up a copy of the newspaper with its half-truths.

"Perhaps if you had some – confirmation that these two were telling the truth, you would be in a better position to handle the situation." Even in death, Snape's voice held a sneer. "I suggest you call in their roommates."

Harry was singularly unenthused at the thought of asking Malfoy for help as their relationship had devolved from chilly to icy in the past two days.

"Thank you, Severus; I believe I will. If you don't mind, would you let Professor Slughorn know we need them?" McGonagall An awkward ten minutes later saw Draco and Daphne enter the office, with Professor Snape arriving in his portrait frame just moments prior to the students.

"Miss Greengrass, Mr. Malfoy, thank you for coming so quickly. We are trying to sort out why the paper has printed such a piece, and I would like your versions of the events in question." McGonagall looked at the Slytherins, waiting for them to begin. After a beat, she continued. "Perhaps you first, Miss Greengrass."

"Of course, Headmistress. I assume you are referencing our first night?" At McGonagall's nod of assent, Daphne continued, "well, we retired around ten and Hermione screamed a couple of hours later; I remember because the clock tower was tolling when she woke me. Harry came running in almost before I could get to her, and he managed to wake her and calm her down. Pretty much everyone was at the door and saw him holding her. Then he left a few minutes later." She shrugged. "The next night was the same, except I saw her take a Dreamless Sleep Potion. I guess it didn't work. They went to the common room to sit so they could talk. And I when I woke the next morning, Hermione was already dressed for classes. We really didn't talk about it."

"Mr. Malfoy, what do you have to add?" The Headmistress turned her attention to the young wizard sitting beside Daphne.

"It was the same. We," he gestured to Harry, "both woke up to a scream. I didn't know who it was, but Potter was already out the door by the time I recognized the voice." He paused to consider his next words. "By the time I got to our door, he was going through theirs. I got there pretty quickly and most of the eighth years were right behind me. Everyone saw it. He was back in our room ten or fifteen minutes later."

"And the next night?" McGonagall prompted him to continue.

"Same. Except, he didn't come back. I saw them talking in the common room. Figured they were trying to sort something out. I went back to bed." Draco debated if he should keep what else he saw to himself. "I haven't heard her scream since."

Professor McGonagall stared at Draco narrowly as if trying to discern what he might be hiding. But Draco had lived with the Dark Lord for a year, and he had learned to hide his feelings and thoughts and hide them well. He showed not a flicker of emotion on his face.

"Very well. I am expecting a message from the Board soon; I'm certain they will want an explanation." She turned her compassionate gaze to Hermione. "Miss Granger, I need to speak with you, but the rest of you may return to class."

"Prof – I mean, Headmistress, with all due respect, I'd like to stay." Harry remained seated as his Slytherin classmates rose to leave.

"You may wait for her at the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Potter." She smiled, not unkindly. When Harry started to object once again, she reiterated, "Thank you, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, ma'am. Hermione, I'll wait on you." Harry picked up his bag and left with Daphne and Draco.

Daphne broke the impasse as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "If you don't mind, I'll stay with you, Harry. I want to make sure she's alright."

"What? Right. Of course." Harry was startled at the offer from the usually aloof blonde. He hadn't thought she'd care. He noticed that Malfoy stopped as well. "You can go on, Malfoy. No need for you to stay."

Malfoy's mouth quirked into his trademark smirk. "I think I'll stay, Potter. You want me to stay."

"I doubt –" Hermione's arrival cut Harry's tirade off before it could really get going. "Hermione, are you alright? I wanted to stay."

"Harry, stop. I'm fine. She just wanted to go over a few things with me."

Draco spoke up. "I think we all need to have a talk. But not in the corridor."

"What could –" Harry was still suspicious of the blond wizard but stopped when Hermione hit him in the arm.

"Fine, Malfoy; when and where?" Hermione wasn't a shy and retiring miss; she had been sorted into the house of lions for a reason.

He considered for a moment before speaking. "Room of Requirement, 9 o'clock tonight."

* * *

Thanks for the lovely reviews and reading again this week! If you like what you've seen, please let me know. :) This story is not finished, so if you have something you are just dying to see before the end, let me know that as well. Happy reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to the fabulous Glittergrrrl05 for her beta work on this story. Her newest story is just hilarious - _Venus Ascendant_. You should check it out!**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed this flight of fancy.**

 **HP and the HP Universe are the property of JK Rowling and her assigns. I receive no monetary compensation from this story.**

* * *

 **Ch. 3**

 _January 1980_

 _Grimmauld Place_

Regulus held the letter an unfamiliar owl dropped before flying away immediately. He knew the handwriting and, with a great deal of trepidation, he broke the seal.

 _Reggie,_

 _I know we haven't spoken for a year, but I thought you should know that Mary has had the baby. We have named her Catriona Pleiades Black. She was the first baby of the New Year in the wizarding world. I hope you will come meet your niece._

 _Always your brother,_

 _Sirius._

Regulus dropped the letter as if it were on fire. He was an uncle - and to a half-blood, no less. He heard his mother coming to his door, and he hastily retrieved and folded the letter, making his way to the fireplace.

"Regulus, dear, who was that letter from? I didn't recognize the owl."

After dropping the missive in the fire, Regulus turned to face her. "Just a school friend. You know him, Severus Snape. He was confirming our lunch plans for tomorrow."

"Oh, yes. Severus, of course." His mother dismissed the matter. "Now, Regulus, we need to talk about your betrothal. I have two witches in mind…."

Regulus carried on the conversation with only half a mind. He was making plans to visit his niece the next day.

* * *

 _September 1998_

 _Room #1_

 _Eighth Tower_

Harry rubbed his face tiredly and looked back at the two-way mirror. "Sirius, it wasn't like the papers made it sound."

"Harry, it doesn't matter how it really was. It matters how the papers _made it sound_. If Hermione were a half-blood from a major house or a pureblood, you'd be engaged right now."

"Really, Sirius? You know Hermione better than that. She'd refuse to be engaged on the basis of some antiquated notion about me being in the same room with her. It's bollocks, and you know it."

Sirius looked unconvinced.

"We slept in the same tent for months. Why wasn't someone screaming about engagement then?" Harry rubbed his forehead as if to scrub away an unwanted image. "And why are you yelling at me? I was trying to help!"

"The tent wasn't in the papers. And you might get a pass because of the war hero stuff, but she won't. You can't let anyone know about the tent, Harry. _Anyone_. She'd be ruined. And you aren't going to get any more passes. Like it or not, you both need to think about settling down after this year."

Draco chose that moment to return. "Can we talk about this later?" Harry did _not_ want to carry on this conversation with his godfather in Draco's presence.

"No, we really can't. Hermione doesn't have a family to protect her, Harry. Minerva and Molly will do the best they can, but if these vicious reports keep making it to the paper, her reputation will be savaged."

"She's not going to accept being 'protected,' Sirius. Hermione is the most talented witch I know. She can take care of herself." Harry knew Hermione better than anyone else, and he knew she'd react poorly to being coddled.

Malfoy interrupted the conversation. "She may think she can, but if her reputation is ruined, she'll have a hard time finding a job. Shacklebolt can probably get her on at the Ministry, but she won't go far. "

"I didn't ask you, Malfoy." The last person Harry wanted interference from was his roommate.

Sirius spoke from the mirror. "As much as I don't want to say this, he's right, Harry."

Flabbergasted, Harry shot back at his godfather, "Have we fallen back in time a hundred years? You have to be kidding me."

"Regardless, Molly and I will be in Hogsmeade tomorrow. You and Hermione meet us for lunch at the Three Broomsticks, at half twelve. We'll get this sorted out."

Putting the mirror down, Harry threw himself on his bed. "Bugger. This is bloody unfair." _Sirius and Molly Weasley? Together? Bloody hell, this is probably worse than I thought._

"Welcome to the peacetime real life of a well-known wizard, Potter. Sucks, doesn't it?" Malfoy's voice floated over to him from across the room. Harry resisted the urge to send him the two-finger salute.

* * *

 _9:00 pm_

 _The Room of Requirement_

Harry paced the corridor in front of the Room of Requirement, asking for a place for the four of them to talk comfortably. After the third pass, the door appeared and they entered to find a smaller version of their common room.

"Alright, Malfoy, we're here. What did you want to talk about?" He was still short-tempered from his conversation with Sirius that afternoon.

Draco responded in kind. "Nice, Potter. I'm trying to do you two a favor, and you can't even be polite."

Hermione, who had yet to hear of the discussion with Sirius, grabbed Harry's arm. "Be nice, Harry." She turned to Draco. "Malfoy, please, what is it you want to tell us?"

"First, I'd like to suggest that we agree to tell one another the truth tonight. I have truth serum, but it won't force your answer like Veritaserum." He looked at the two Gryffindors specifically and gestured to the vials he had just placed on the table. "Trust isn't a commodity we have in abundance, is it?" He smirked at them. "Each of you choose a vial; I'll take the one left over."

All four students chose a vial and took the potions; they waited a few moments for it to take effect.

"I think I know who sold you out; I just don't know why." Draco dove in without preamble.

"How?" Harry and Hermione chorused.

"What are you two? Twins? Soul mates?" Draco smirked at the Gryffindors. His mouth turned up on the side, Draco continued. "I saw someone watching while you two were talking the other night." At their questioning looks, he continued. "It was either Abbott or Patil; I could see her from looking from their room, #5."

"Which one?" Hermione asked.

Draco shook his head. "I couldn't tell. Just saw one of them from the door."

Harry asked the question he'd wanted to ask from the time Draco began. "Why are you telling us, Malfoy?"

"I can't be a good friend, Potter?"

"You'll forgive us if that's not exactly a side we've seen from you, Malfoy," He repeated his question. "Now, why are you telling us?"

Draco and Daphne exchanged a long look.

Daphne spoke up first. "Draco and I are scheduled to be married next summer."

"What? I didn't know…" Hermione's voice trailed off as Daphne shook her head in the negative.

"It's an arranged marriage. The contracts have been signed since our first year." Draco picked up the tale. "But neither of us want to marry each other."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry still didn't see how this had any bearing on him and Hermione.

"We'd like Granger's help," Draco answered. "We need to find a way out, if possible. And if anyone can find a loophole," he turned to Hermione, "you can."

"So this is some kind of _quid pro quo_? I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine?" Hermione needed to know exactly what she was getting herself into. She turned to Daphne. "And were you being friends with me so I'd help you?" Hermione tried to keep the hurt out of her tone.

Daphne's normally serene expression cracked. "Actually, no. I've always thought you were an interesting person, and I wanted to have a friend."

Hermione blanched. "I'm sorry. I…I wasn't trying to hurt you or anything. I'm just feeling very, exposed, right now." Harry couldn't take it anymore. He reached over to Hermione and grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Hard. Hermione turned her attention to Draco. "So that was your play – that's why you asked me on a date? You wanted to get on my good side, did you?"

Harry watched Draco's face, but the blonde remained impassive. "Part of the reason, Granger. But not the whole of it."

"I knew you were up to something. Did it occur to either of you to simply _ask_ for my help?"

"They're Slytherin, Hermione; that's not how things work in their house." Harry surprised them all with his insight.

Hermione cocked her head, considering the Slytherins. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Fine. I'll do the research, see if I can find a way to break the betrothal contract. I'd have done it anyway, but since you're offering, I need to know who sold us out to the papers."

"Potter, have you told her what you heard this afternoon?" Draco asked, amusement lurking in his eyes.

"What's he talking about, Harry?" The alarm in her voice was impossible to mask.

"You wanker. You couldn't have given me a minute?" Harry glared at Draco before turning to Hermione. "I was going to tell you tonight, but I _was_ going to wait until we had some privacy." He couldn't believe he was going to have to have this conversation in front of Draco and Daphne. But in fairness, their classmates would probably be able to answer questions much better than he could.

"Do we need privacy for it?"

Harry ran his fingers through his perpetually messy hair. "Yes. No. Maybe. Hell, Hermione, I don't know."

"That was helpful, Harry. Very specific."

"They can probably answer some questions you're going to have. Hell, I think you've got a better handle on some of this than I do. But Sirius and Molly are coming to Hogsmeade tomorrow. They want us to have lunch with them. Sirius is worried there might be repercussions from the newspaper article."

"Repercussions? Nothing happened. There won't be any repercussions." Hermione was thinking of much more tangible things than her reputation.

Harry took his glasses off and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Not that kind of repercussion, Hermione." He sighed. "Sirius, and I guess Molly, too, are worried about our reputations, but mostly yours." He put his glasses back on and rubbed his forehead.

"But, that's just…preposterous! Everyone could see that - "

"You were sitting in your bed in Potter's arms, and he was half-naked," Draco interrupted her protest.

"But that's not what -"

"Granger, that's exactly what happened. It doesn't matter that clearly nothing was going on. It just matters that it was reported he was _in your bed, not fully dressed_."

"Malfoy, stop. Hermione, you just needed to know what some people are thinking. We'll find a way to mute the criticism." Harry really wanted this dreadful conversation done.

"Honestly, this is ridiculous. Why would my reputation suffer for something like this, even if something happened, which it _didn't_?"

"Hermione," Daphne said, trying to get her attention, "you're Muggle-born, and that's got you at a disadvantage. You're famous. And because you are, you're going to be expected to behave in a certain prescribed manner. And it's not like the Muggle world."

"That's not fair."

"No, it's not, but it's how things are, Hermione," Daphne answered.

* * *

 _11:00 am_

 _Room #4_

 _Eighth Tower_

"Daphne, I'm out of cover-up. I can't let Molly or even Harry see these black circles under my eyes. What am I going to _do_?" Hermione's voice started to pitch higher as she began to worry in earnest about their reaction.

"Calm down, Hermione, we can fix this." Daphne got out her wand and began working. Some of the spells she'd been trying recently had actually been working; maybe they'd get lucky today. "Harry? Is he even going to notice one way or the other?"

Hermione gave Daphne an arch look. "Harry, the boy who lived? He tends to notice more than you think, and he's been paying close attention because he's worried about me."

"I think there's more to it than that. He –" a scratching at the window caught her attention. "What is _that_?"

"Pig!" Hermione hurried over to let in Ron's hapless owl, who fluttered around, making it almost impossible to get the letter off his leg.

"Its' name is Pig?" Daphne thought she must have misunderstood.

"It's Ron's owl," Hermione tossed over her shoulder as she finally managed to get the letter off his leg.

"Ohhhhh." Daphne had the 'and now it's all clear to me' expression on her face. "Ron. That explains a lot."

' _Mione,_

 _Just writing. Saw the rubbish in the paper today. Mum is going to help you get this all sorted, you'll see. But, be careful. Sounds like somebody's got it in for you and maybe Harry too._

 _Try-outs start Monday. I'll know by Friday if I made the team._

 _Write when you get the chance. Tell me what's going on. If things get bad, I'll come up. I'll not let you get hurt again._

 _Ron_

"What did he say?" Daphne saw Hermione's small smile. "He always comes across like such a –" she stopped at Hermione's expectant and warning look, "sort of goofy guy. And you're so much smarter than him. You don't seem like natural friends, that's all." She added hastily, "and I mean that in the nicest possible way."

"I knew what you meant. But you don't survive a troll together as first years without becoming friends."

"I can see that – wait, a _troll_?" Daphne's wand paused in mid-air above Hermione's face. "You know what, never mind. I'll take your word for it."

"I thought you might."

"Alright, let's get on with this. Swish and flick. Wait. That sort of worked, Hermione. You try. Remember to say the words."

Hermione attempted the beauty spell. It worked. "Daphne, it worked! It worked!"

Daphne inspected Hermione's face. No sign of the bags under her eyes remained. "You're right, it did. Now we just need to see how long it lasts. And check your face while you're out to refresh it if you need to."

* * *

 _At the same time_

 _Tapestry Room_

 _Grimmauld Place_

A line appeared, running to the side from Sirius's picture, and a name and picture of a beautiful witch materialized. _Mary Catriona MacDonald_. And between their names, another line began to appear, this time quite faint.

Of course, no one noticed because there was no one at home, and even if there had been, Sirius tended to avoid the room at all costs.

* * *

 _12:15_

 _Saturday_

 _On the Road to Hogsmeade_

Hermione and Harry decided to walk to Hogsmeade rather than Floo. It was a surprisingly clear day and even balmy for the time of year.

Harry deliberated saying something to Hermione about her lack of sleep. It was too early in the year for school work to be causing the bags he'd started to notice under her eyes. They weren't in evidence today, but he'd seen them under her Muggle make-up this week.

"Why aren't you sleeping, Hermione?"

"What? I mean, I am."

"No, you're not." Harry stopped in the middle of the road. "Don't insult my intelligence or our friendship, Hermione. I know when my best friend isn't rested, even if she's not screaming in the middle of the night." At Hermione's slightly guilty look, he continued, "But you are, aren't you? You've just cast a _silencio_ or a _muffliato_ so we don't hear anymore."

Hermione deflated a bit at his comment. _Merlin's balls_ , she thought she'd covered her interrupted sleep well. "How did you know?"

"I have eyes, Hermione. I may wear glasses, but I _see_ you. And I notice everything about you." His hand moved up to tuck a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear. "So, do you want to tell me what's going on or am I going to have to make you tell me?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Like you could _make_ me do anything, Harry Potter."

"You think I couldn't?" Harry took a step closer, invading her personal space. She either had to stand her ground and accept it or take a step back; taking a step back was tantamount to a surrender. But standing her ground meant being tantalizingly close to him. Hermione felt her breathing quicken and grow more shallow. When she didn't step back, he leaned down until his mouth was right beside her ear. "You might hex me into next week, but I'll still find out."

Hermione had had enough. She lifted her foot to step back and regain her emotional equilibrium, but he showed exactly why he was a Seeker when he encircled her with his strong arms before she could complete the movement. Whiskey brown eyes clashed with emerald green.

"Harry, what are you doing? You're starting to make me feel uncomfortable."

"I'm getting answers; I _need_ to know what's going on." He loosened his grip just a bit. "And I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable." He kept one hand around her waist and used the other to brush the loose locks of hair back from her face again. "But I'm on your side; I want to help, and I can't do that if I don't know what's going on."

Hermione gnawed on her bottom lip. She didn't want to admit it, but the dreams were getting worse. Maybe the councilor they had to start seeing on Monday would be helpful. But she didn't trust this unknown councilor; she trusted Harry. "The dreams are getting worse. It's not always Bellatrix torturing me anymore." She furiously blinked back tears. "I'm dreaming about my parents and being ripped from them, except it's like I'm a baby when it happens. And I get this feeling that you're gone. That I had you, and then you disappeared." She wiped away a stray tear and stared off into the distance.

"Oh, Godric. Hermione." Harry moved his hands from her waist, cupped her face, and tilted her chin up so that he could look her in the eyes. "I'll _never_ leave you. Know that." His brain screamed caution, but his heart was yelling for something else. So, he leaned down on and gently pressed a kiss to her lips. He meant for it to be a chaste kiss between friends, but their lips caught and held for just a moment too long. His head won out, and he pulled back just before it might become too uncomfortable when it ended. As much as he wanted more from her, he would _not_ risk their friendship. "We'll figure out what's causing these dreams and we'll make it better."

He moved back to give them both a bit of breathing room and remembered their lunch appointment. "I think we need to hurry; it's almost half twelve."

"Yes, of course. We can apparate." With loud pops, they appeared in front of the Three Broomsticks, where Molly and Sirius waited outside.

Molly enveloped Hermione in the soft smell of a mother with her hug. "My girl. How are you holding up? You're too thin. Aren't you eating?"

"I'm fine, Molly, I promise."

"Let's go in. Madame Rosmerta reserved her small side room for us." Sirius shepherded them all into the restaurant; there was a strange wizard across the street with a what might be a camera, and Sirius would rather this whole conversation take place in private.

After getting settled and having lunched delivered, Sirius got down to business. "Now, Harry, you told me the newspapers got it wrong. Tell us exactly how much truth there was to the article, and we can decide how to proceed from there."

Harry and Hermione went through the story again.

Molly, true to form, keyed in on the dreams. "Hermione, dear, are they gone or are you still having them? You look well-rested."

"I'm fine, really." Harry's mouth tightened at Hermione's glib reply.

Molly narrowed her eyes suspiciously but continued. "If you say so. And I'll let it go for now, but here's what's important. You two cannot be seen in compromising situations anymore."

"If you do, you'll have to get engaged," Sirius added.

"What?" Hermione spluttered.

Harry choked on his butterbeer.

"I refuse to marry on the basis of some antiquated, outdated notion of propriety." Hermione's indignant tones rang out. "Harry and I aren't even dating. I'm not even interested in him like that."

Harry sat silent. _I guess that tells me where I stand_.

"Harry, dear, how do you feel?" Molly looked towards the silent wizard.

"Tell them, Harry. Tell them we aren't interested in each other that way," Hermione demanded.

Harry took a moment to collect his thoughts and try to hide his feelings. "I'm fine. But maybe if you could explain what the real problem is. I mean, I really don't understand. It's not like Hermione and I were doing anything wrong. She was having a nightmare, Daphne couldn't wake her up, and I was able to comfort her. I didn't stop and grab a shirt. Is that so bad?"

"No, Harry dear, of course it's not wrong. But the perception is that you were in her bed for some other reason." Molly tried to sooth his feelings.

"So, I'm not supposed to comfort one of my best friends because she's a girl? How does that work?"

"No, of course not." Sirius struggled to find a way to help these two understand. "Harry, when you asked yesterday if we'd fallen back in time a hundred years, you weren't far off, at least with social mores. It's all part of our society. We marry young and are expected to behave circumspectly."

"Really, Sirius? Did you behave circumspectly in school?" Hermione inquired acidly.

"Actually, Hermione, I was never caught in a girl's room, nor did I ever make the papers."

"But you did it, though? It just didn't matter because you weren't caught!" Hermione was absolutely incredulous. "What if you had been, would you have been forced to marry? Or only if she was a pureblood?"

"Harry didn't tell you, then." Sirius shook his head. "Boy, I thought you told her everything."

"Tell me what, exactly?"

"I was married right out of Hogwarts. My wife and daughter were killed by Death Eaters." Sirius's tone was quiet and stern. "So please, Hermione, don't make judgments about things of which you have limited knowledge."

Hermione looked abashed.

"But this isn't about me," Sirius continued without pause. "To a certain extent, you're both protected because of the war status you enjoy. But, some social mores cannot be ignored. If you're perceived to be in a serious physical relationship, then certain prescribed things must occur."

"But we're not." Hermione's voice was a soft wail. "Nothing's going on."

Molly took up the banner. "No, I'm sure there's not. But, Hermione, perception is reality. And the perception is that you're in an intimate relationship. Now, this may well blow over, but a repeat of the situation - that's not going to blow over. And if it doesn't end with a public announcement of your engagement, then both your reputations will suffer, most especially yours, Hermione." Molly's tone was gentle, but her words were not. "No, it's not fair, but it's the world in which we live."

Harry cleared his throat. "What do we need to do?"

Sirius and Molly exchanged a loaded glance. "Well, that all depends on what you want to do."

"I don't know." Harry shook his head. "What do you mean, what do we want to do?"

"If Hermione is right, and there's truly nothing but a friendship between you, then you need to make sure you act as platonic friends. All the time. But you've never been that way, any of you." Molly sounded sympathetic. "I've seen you three, you two and Ron. Your relationships, they don't look platonic, not on the surface."

Molly turned to address Hermione specifically. "It's how the boys treat you. Always an arm around your shoulders, wanting to step in front of boys who want to date you. The occasional kiss on the forehead or cheek – it's all innocent, I know. But people, especially now, are going to talk."

"On the other hand," Sirius's deep voice caught their attention, "if maybe there _is_ something there, then you can proceed as you have been. But you need to know there will be expectations for the two of you at the end of the year since you're a year older; wizards and witches generally marry young, especially ones who've been linked together."

"Just so we're clear, if Harry and I continue our relationship as it is, then we'll be expected to marry at the end of the year? Do you hear yourselves? Victoria is NOT the Queen! It's almost the 21st century. I will _not_ be bound by these antiquated notions." Hermione was adamant.

"Do you plan to live in the wizarding world, Hermione?" Sirius's tone was somber.

"Of course I do; it's my home."

"If you allow your reputation to be ruined, then you'll have a very difficult time making your way."

Harry tried to defend Hermione. "Sirius, she's the brightest witch of our age. She'll be fine."

"No, Harry, she won't. If she were just another nameless witch or wizard, then maybe so. But the status that's protected your reputations from last year is going to hurt you this year _because you're famous_. Add to that, not very many people are aware of the details of your Horcrux hunt; they just know you both weren't at Hogwarts and that you defeated Voldemort. If that comes out, plus this latest bit? No. It'll hurt you both and ruin Hermione. I was deadly serious when I told you that _no one_ can know about the tent."

Sirius broke eye contact with Harry and spoke to the both of them. "It's worse because you don't have families to protect you. No one would care if you were just a wizard and a witch, dating or being friends, or fooling around. But people _do_ care because you're The-Boy-Who-Lived and the Brightest Witch of Her Age and two-thirds of the Golden Trio." Sirius's face twisted as if he'd just eaten an ear-wax flavored Bertie Bott's bean; this conversation was obviously necessary, but unpalatable.

"So the world we saved will ruin us, but mostly Hermione, if we remain friends," Harry spat out.

"No; you can be friends, but someone has betrayed you, so you can't be the openly demonstrative friends that you are - not if you want to protect your reputations. Normally things that happen at school stay at school, but for some reason that's not happening right now. You need to get rid of the rat," Sirius sneered at the mention of a turncoat.

"We're working on it. Malfoy saw something. He's helping," Harry volunteered.

Sirius cocked his head to the side in his canine fashion. "You've decided to trust Malfoy?"

"Well, he's helping us, we're helping him. Okay – Hermione is helping him and Daphne. They're contracted to marry this summer and they don't want to. So, I'll probably be reading the books Hermione hands me, trying to find an out." Harry's self-deprecating grin accompanied by a shrug inspired a fleeting smile from Hermione for the first time since this distasteful conversation had begun.

"The Headmistress is making us all go to counseling, too." Hermione changed the subject. "She told me she was concerned that we've got have something Muggles called 'shell shock' after World War II. They call it Post-Traumatic Stress or PTS now. Apparently, Madame Pomfrey has gotten numerous requests for Dreamless Sleep Draughts."

"Brew your own. Keep your own council. I don't think you can trust anyone except each other." Sirius leaned back in his chair with hands linked behind his head. The seriousness of his tone belied the relaxed nature of his posture. "I mean it. Someone is betraying you both. And they'll take these counseling sessions and use what they learn against you." He brought his hands down and sat up straight. "You need to set a trap."

* * *

 _Sunday Morning_

 _The Great Hall_

"Dammit," Harry swore softly when he saw the cover of the morning's _Daily Prophet_. He showed it to Hermione.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me."

 _Betrothal Discussions?_

 _Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were spotted yesterday in Hogsmeade village, meeting with Sirius Black, godfather of Potter, and Molly Weasley, mother of Ronald Weasley and purported mother figure to both Potter and Granger. Miss Granger, a Muggle-born, is of age and her parents have not been seen since before the war. The Prophet is investigating the possibility of a betrothal between Potter and Granger._

The picture below showed Sirius ushering them all into the Three Broomsticks.

 _Thank the Founders he didn't spot us on the road. What a shitstorm that would be._ Hermione winced at the thought. When her eyes met Harry's, she had the distinct feeling he was thinking the same thing.

* * *

A/N: This is (clearly) a very old-fashioned AU. Think Victorian. The perception of proper behavior is more important than actual behavior in this case. So, if you are famous, a member of high society, or a member of the Sacred 28, you are held to a very strict standard of behavior (at least in public). And the cardinal rule: don't get caught. If you have questions, please let me know. I try to answer most of my reviews, especially the ones where you have questions.

Thanks for reading and reviewing (if you are so motivated)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Beta: Thank you, glittergrrrl05!**

* * *

 _January 1980_

 _Sirius Black's Home_

Sirius couldn't contain his surprise when he opened the door to see his brother. "Regulus?" he shook his head as if to clear it. "You came."

"I wanted to meet my niece."

Sirius waved him in. "She just woke up. Mary's changing her nappie now."

They entered the lounge to see Mary rocking a tiny bundle. Regulus could see a tuft of dark brown hair over the swaddle.

Sirius spoke from his side. "Mary, Regulus is here. He came to meet Catriona."

The brunette witch looked up with a slightly hesitant smile. "Regulus. I –" she stopped as if she wasn't quite sure what to say. "Thank you for coming. Catriona's just waking up. Would you like to hold her?" She offered her erstwhile brother-in-law the baby.

Regulus took a step forward and gathered the baby in his arms. When she turned her wide gray eyes on him, his brother's eyes, Regulus felt his heart melt, and he fell in love with the tiny bundle of humanity in his arms. Cradling her carefully, he made his way to a chair and sat down. He spoke quietly to her. "I'm your Uncle Reggie, Cat, and I'll keep you safe in our dangerous world." He stared at her contentedly until she began to fuss.

Mary instantly swooped down, knowing that cries were next. Catriona was hungry, and that was a task that only a mother could handle at this point.

The brothers watched as she bustled out of the room.

"I was Marked." Regulus stated it baldly. "You need to be careful how you stand against the Dark Lord, Sirius."

Sirius paled at the news. "Why would you do that? He's – evil, Regulus."

"I came today to meet Catriona, to see you. I don't know if I can ever return."

Sirius grimaced. "I understand."

"Protect your wife; protect my niece, Sirius. I'll do what I can, but he won't stop until he controls our world." Regulus swallowed nervously. "I'd thought to convince you to join me, but I can see now you'd never do that."

Sirius didn't hear from his brother again for over a year.

* * *

 _September 1998_

 _England Quidditch Trials_

Ron collapsed on the bed in the dorm, exhausted, booted legs dangling off the side and his arm thrown across his eyes. This was it. He'd done the best he could and he'd find out in the morning if he'd made the team. The three other Keepers invited to try out for the team all wandered in, their faces mirroring the exhaustion he felt.

"Oi, there, Weasley. That was a nice save for Blue right at the end." Oliver Wood sank down onto his bed. "It got you a spot."

Ron dragged his arm down and sat up. "Thanks, Wood,but I doubt it. You lot were tough; Red only got five through the hoops at your end." He stood to gather his toiletries. "I'm heading the showers, then down to dinner." He nodded to the other two Keepers.

Oliver groaned as he stretched out his arms. "Merlin, I haven't been this sore in ages."

Keller Kessel laughed. "Me either, mate." He paused for a moment as Ron left the room. "He's good. Thought he'd gotten the ask for trials because of the whole Golden Trio bit, but he might make the team."

"Kessel, he played for Gryffindor before he went off to battle Voldemort. They had some of their most impressive wins with him at Keeper." Oliver began gathering supplies for his shower. "You know Coach wouldn't ask him to try out if he wasn't good."

"'Bout that; what was Potter like? Was he any good?"

"Harry? Yeah. Harry's good. He was our Seeker his first year."

"Think he'll try out next year?"

Wood shrugged. "Who knows? I think he's going into Auror training when he leaves Hogwarts. Probably depends on if Coach invites him and how Gryffindor does this year on the Pitch."

"Wonder why Coach didn't ask him this year, if he's so good?"

"Dunno. Ask Coach." Wood made his way to the showers and then headed down to dinner, settling in the chair next to Ron.

Just as dinner was ending, Athena, Harry's owl, fluttered down beside Ron, holding out her leg for Ron to detach a letter. Ron scratched at Athena's chest, and absently fed her a bit of chicken as he tore open the letter, recognizing Harry's scrawling handwriting.

 _Ron,_

 _Hope things are going well with you. I've been reviewing some Pensieve footage of games, and I think Wood is your biggest competition. Kessler and Baker are no small joke, but you're better than them. So, I think you've got this – either Keeper or Reserve Keeper._

 _Hermione and I are settled back at Hogwarts. We aren't in Gryff Tower this year; none of the Eighth Years are. Instead, we have our own tower. It's some House unity shit. I've got to room with Draco sodding Malfoy -it's total bollocks. Not sure what the fuck McGonagall was thinking. The son of a bitch was rude to Hermione when she came over to check out the room._

Ron grimaced. _Malfoy always was a right prick._

 _Anyway, I set him straight. He apologized. Guess that's all I can hope for. Hermione's rooming with Daphne Greengrass; remember her? Hot blonde, Slyth? And Neville came back. It's pretty funny watching all the girls trip when they see him coming down the hall. Hermione tells me he's the first wizard to make a cardigan look sexy, whatever the hell that means. He looks like Neville to me. But she must be onto something because they all stare at him._

 _Anyway, classes started the other day. Pretty busy here. Athena is going to stay with you so you can send word back tomorrow about try-outs._

 _Good luck mate,_

 _Harry_

 _PS: Hermione sends her love_

Ron stared off into space. His mouth kicked up at the side as he tried to imagine bumbling Neville Longbottom as sexy. In a cardigan. It just didn't work. Now, Daphne Greengrass, _she_ was a hot blonde.

"What's got you smiling, Weasley?" Wood's voice interrupted his reverie.

"What? Oh. Just a letter from Harry."

Wood looked at Ron expectantly. "Something funny?"

Ron chuckled. "Hermione told Harry that Neville Longbottom - you remember him, right? Short, kind of pudgy in first year. Big teeth?" Ron tapped his teeth to remind Wood of the younger wizard.

Wood's eyes narrowed in thought. "Yeeeaaahhhhhh, I think so. Forgetful chap?"

"That's him. Well, he's the guy who killed Voldemort's snake. Didja know that?"

Wood's eyes widened. "No shite."

"Yeah. It was a fucking beautiful thing to see that monster die." Ron paused to savor the memory of Nagini's destruction. The Quidditch players closest to them paused their conversations to listen.

"It was all over by the time I got there," Wood remarked. "I heard it was touch and go at the end."

Ron shook his head. "I wouldn't want to do it over again, that's for sure. When Hagrid came out carrying Harry's body – we thought we were done for. Then Neville steps up, pulls the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat and – wham! Cuts its head off."

"Sword of Gryffindor?" Wood asked, curious.

"Yeah, Gryffindor's sword. Godric had it made by the Goblins, and it only appears to true Gryffindors. We used it, uh…." Ron suddenly realized where he was and his rapt audience, "to help defeat Voldemort."

"It appeared for you?" Kessler asked from the opposite side of the table.

Ron lips twisted in memory. "I had to use it, yeah. But anyway, it's over. Tom Riddle's dead and he's not coming back."

"You sure about that? Because he disappeared for over 10 years, then he showed back up again." Kessler pointed out what many in the wizarding world thought in private.

"Yeah, Kessler, I'm sure. Harry's sure. Hermione's sure. My dad, my mum, McGonagall, the Minister for Magic, they're all sure. Everyone at the Battle of Hogwarts is sure. That son of a bitch is dead."

The next morning all the Quidditch players gathered for the team meeting. Ron rubbed the sweat from his palms onto his trouser legs. The coach began his speech, thanking everyone for coming out. _Maybe it's not too late to go back to Hogwarts. Sounds like a pretty sweet set-up. Harry and Hermione would be glad to see me._

"At Seeker, and congratulations to…."

 _I can always go work with George. I'm sure he can use the help in Diagon Alley._ _And he's been talking about expanding to Hogsmeade, so maybe I could run that shop._

He was jolted out of his reverie when he heard the coach continue the list.

"At Keeper, and congratulations to Oliver Wood and at Reserve Keeper Ronald Weasley."

Ron breathed a huge sigh of relief and exchanged a brief nod with Wood. _Un-fecking-real. I just made the team. For England._

* * *

 _That Evening_

 _Hogwarts_

Athena landed beside Harry at the dinner table and offered him a letter. Recognizing Ron's untidy writing, Harry hesitated for a beat, hoping for the best.

Hermione, of course, noticed. "Well, go on then. Read it."

Harry tore into the missive and stared, mute, at the contents.

"Harry – what does it say?" Hermione's eager voice penetrated his daze.

Blinking, Harry looked up and a grin split his face. "He made it, Hermione. Reserve Keeper. He made it!"

Neville, on the other side of Harry let out a whoop. "Yes!"

Hermione snatched the letter from Harry's lax grip. "And Oliver Wood is the Keeper."

"Gryffindor!" Harry jumped up and yelled out a war cry for the whole Hall to hear, much to the disgust of the other Houses, earning a severe look from McGonagall at the Head table. Neville and Hermione joined in with the entirety of the Gryffindor table, ever up for sparking a bit of House pride.

Bill, the unfortunate Head of Gryffindor House, stood and entered the fray, calming them almost immediately with his stern look as he moved to the Eighths table. "Harry! What are you thinking? Ten points from Gryffindor. And you two – joining in? What is wrong with you lot?" He took in the giddy grins on their faces.

"It's Ron!" Hermione's excited voice split the quiet air. "He made the team. He's Reserve Keeper! And Oliver Wood is Keeper!"

"Gryffindor!" yelled Bill, sparking another round of chants from the Lions. Ginny let out an identical whoop from her seat at the House table; Hermione's voice had carried across the hall.

"Professor Weasley! Control yourself!" McGonagall stood, instantly silencing the Hall. "I'm sure you are quite proud, but really." Bill looked slightly abashed, but the corners of his lips still tilted up in a smile. "Please, Mr. Potter, send our congratulations to Mr. Weasley and Mr. Wood. But this must stop. That will be another 10 points from Gryffindor for disrupting the evening meal." The other Houses looked appropriately pleased at the punishment.

Terry Boot leaned forward. "Don't worry, Potter. Hermione will earn back the 20 points tomorrow in Charms and Transfiguration. Then Longbottom will add some more in Herbology."

"We're going to a game, Hermione. I know you don't like Quidditch, but we're going to a game."

Before Hermione could answer Harry, Blaise responded, smirk firmly in place. "We'll all go."

And at the Head table, McGonagall, Quidditch fan that she was, muttered behind her hand where no one could see, "Thirty points to Gryffindor."

* * *

 _Sunday Afternoon_

 _Room #1_

 _Eighth Tower_

Draco, tired and sore after the first Quidditch try-out of the year, stopped and stared at the mess on Harry's side of the room. The wizard himself was lying barefoot on his bed, bouncing a conjured Quaffle in the air.

"Potter, were you born in a barn?"

The Quaffle disappeared with a lazy wave of Harry's wand, and he sat up, bring his knees up to rest his arms on them. "Can't say as that I was, Malfoy. I've got it from good sources I was born at St. Mungo's," he responded.

"Then you must have been raised in one." Draco sneered at his roommate. "It's the only reason I can come up with for your appalling housekeeping skills."

"Actually, I lived in a cupboard beneath the stairs, so a barn doesn't sound half bad. Seems pretty roomy to me." Harry's emerald eyes glinted in amusement at Draco's ire.

"Oh, haha, Potter. Sure." Draco scoffed at Harry's seemingly flippant response. "Just clean up that mess. I feel sorry for the House Elves."

"What? It's not bad. Just some clothes out. And books." Harry looked at his side of the room which was admittedly much less tidy than Draco's.

"Not that bad? Potter, do you have _any_ clothes in your wardrobe?"

"Yes, smart arse, I do." Harry waved his wand to open the wardrobe door, demonstrating that he did indeed have clothes in his wardrobe - precisely one set of perfectly pressed dress robes.

Draco gave Harry a mocking, slow clap of admiration. "Well done, Chosen One. You've hung up your dress robes. Excellent. Truly excellent."

Harry rolled his eyes. _What would Ron do? Hex him. Not good for inter-house unity. What would Hermione do?_ "Fine, Malfoy, I'll straighten up a bit."

Draco watched as Harry got up and magically began setting his side of the room to rights.

"You weren't serious, were you? You didn't really live in a cupboard under a set of stairs, did you?"

Harry froze in the act of physically picking up a stubborn set of robes on the floor. "Yeah, I did." He turned around to see Draco's aghast expression. "Don't feel sorry for me."

"But, you're…."

"The Chosen One? Yeah, that didn't matter much in the Muggle World, Malfoy." Harry shrugged. "It was good for me, really. Sort of helped prepare me for this, " he tapped the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger and all that."

Draco walked over to his bed and sat down. "I didn't know."

Harry shrugged. "No big deal." He went back to cleaning his side of the room.

Draco broke the silence. "My dad's an arsehole." He sounded as though the words were being dragged from him.

Harry choked back a snort of agreement and instead made his way over to his bed to take a seat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, he really is. He forced me to be marked to make up for his failings." Draco snorted. "Don't think I'll ever forgive him for that. Neither will my mother. But she can't leave him, the prick."

"Why not?"

"Marriage is until death do us part, Potter. You know that."

"But your father is in Azkaban, Malfoy."

"Yes, he is. But she still can't divorce him. Those don't exist in the magical world."

Harry pondered that statement. "Blimey, that's terrible. No wonder you don't want to marry Daphne if you don't love her. You're talking a lifetime of misery, especially if you do eventually fall in love with someone else."

"No shit, Potter," Draco snorted. "But could you at least keep your damn clothes in the wardrobe? It's fucking disgusting the way you keep your shit out."

"Don't be such a ponce. You just had to ask."

* * *

 _7:00pm_

 _After Dinner_

 _Hogwarts Library, Restricted Section_

Daphne and Draco handed their copies of the betrothal contracts to Hermione and Harry. While Harry just read, Hermione scratched notes onto a parchment beside her; when she was finished, she started issuing orders.

"I need every Wizarding Law book with a section on betrothal contracts in the library. While you three get them, I'll check both of these for any discrepancies."

Draco sat mute at the order until Daphne prodded him to get moving. Fifteen minutes later, he dumped an armload of books on the table. "You know, Granger, we could just get Potter's house elf to do the grunt labor."

Harry's books hit the table beside Malfoy's and slid into a messy pile. "She won't go for that."

"Why the bloody hell not? They love to be useful," Draco snapped.

"He's right, Malfoy; I won't. Dobby isn't ours to command, and even if he was, I wouldn't ask." Hermione was still comparing the contracts without appearing to pay attention to her classmates.

Daphne floated the remainder of the books onto the table effortlessly. "Honestly, boys, have you forgotten you're wizards?"

Hermione and Daphne both snickered at the chagrined expressions on the wizards' faces.

"All right, here's what I have so far." Hermione's companions re-settled themselves into their chairs. "First of all, the easiest way would be a buy-out. But there isn't one. Also effective, but much less desirable, from a reputation point of view, you could get pregnant by another wizard, Daphne."

The blonde witch's eyes widened and she shook her head frantically.

"I didn't think that'd be an option. Or one of you could die." Both Draco and Daphne looked a bit nauseous at that thought.

"Are there any _acceptable_ outs, Hermione?" Harry interjected. "Because this sounds pretty grim."

"Not obvious ones, but that's why we have the law books." Hermione offered Daphne a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, we'll get you both out of this. Now, everyone take a book and read the sections on contracts or marriage law. Write down anything helpful and where you found it."

The library was open to eighth years all night, so they settled in for a long research session. The only sound was the turning of pages and the scratches of quill on parchment.

Hermione abruptly pushed aside the book she was using and drew the contracts to her, brow furrowed in concentration. She double-checked dates and signatures.

"Neither of you signed these."

"Well-spotted, Granger. We were eleven when they were executed." Draco's sardonic drawl prompted a eyeroll from Hermione, but she went back to her inspection of the contracts.

"Eleven?" Harry was shocked. "How can that even be legal?"

"We were dependent of our parents and their estates, therefore we are bound by their word until we are adults or independent of them." Daphne explained the reality of life in the wizarding aristocracy.

"But you wouldn't get married until you were of age and out of school," Hermione mused aloud.

"But we'll still be dependent upon them," Daphne interjected.

Draco sat up abruptly as he followed started to Hermione's train of thought. "Granger, what are you saying?"

"If you're an adult and no longer dependent on your family, then legally I'm not sure how they can force you to execute this contract."

"So it could be as simple as getting a job and a flat I pay for with my salary or something?" Draco's silver gaze narrowed.

"Maybe. There might be some magic involved I need to research, but yes. Maybe." Hermione hedged. "But if this works, it may only work for the two of you."

"Why?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged as she answered. "It's a loophole that families will try to close."

"How could they?" Harry pressed.

Hermione considered her answer. "Perhaps they could add some clause they forced the children to sign when they reached adulthood; any number of things, really. But if they don't see it coming, it may work."

After sitting in silence, Daphne finally spoke up. "Could it really be that simple?"

"I don't know." Hermione was empathetic. "That's why I have to do the research. There may be some magic involved that would prevent this."

"With our families, I'm sure there's magic involved." Draco knew his father and his family; the likelihood of magic not being involved was slim.

"There's something else." All eyes turned to Harry when he spoke. "What if you do pull this off? What's society going to say? I mean, Hermione and I don't care about its opinion of us and we're still be being pushed towards an engagement announcement whether we want to or not. And we're willing to take the consequences of not doing what we're told is proper. But what about you lot? Are you willing to do that?"

"No. It doesn't matter to me, personally. But it matters to my mother, so indirectly, I do care," Draco answered, shrugging.

"Seems to me it'd be better if you married someone whose family was on the winning side - for societal purposes, I mean." Harry responded. He winced at the sour look on the Slytherins' faces. "Sorry, but it's true."

Daphne recovered first. "You're not wrong, Harry, but our parents have been friends for years. They may not care about that. And I don't think they'll take kindly to our rebellion, as they see it."

Hermione started collecting parchments and closing books. "Well, we've got a start. Let's get these reshelved; I'll come back tomorrow to check out the most promising ones."

"Right. But before we go, I wanted to tell you that I have an idea how to flush out our rat." Draco's words stopped Hermione's busy hands.

"Really?" Harry sounded relieved.

"How?" Hermione narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"It's simple. We'll just play a drinking game with the help of Veritaserum." Draco shrugged. "They won't be able to help themselves."

"You're joking. Veritaserum is restricted." Hermione's scandalized expression was exactly what Draco expected from her, but he wasn't sure what Harry was going to say.

"I'd be willing to bet he already has some at hand," Harry interjected. "Hermione, he's right. Think about it. With Veritaserum, they'll _have_ to tell the truth."

"How do we get everyone to play?" Daphne asked.

Draco smirked. "If Potter plays, they'll play. Everyone wants to know his secrets."

Harry's jaw tightened, and he glanced at Hermione. Her worried eyes met his.

Draco, watching the byplay between the two Gryffindors, smirked. "Worried, Potter? Are you scared that we'll uncover some extracurricular activity you don't want us knowing about? Or is it you that's worried, Granger? Maybe there's some illicit little hanky panky you don't want to talk about? Maybe - together?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's naked innuendo. "Whatever, Malfoy. I'm not ashamed of what I've done, but I'm not one to kiss and tell."

"Kissed a lot of witches, then, Potter? Or wizards, is it?"

"Haha. Bugger off, Malfoy."

"Oh, that's right. It's witches, isn't it? Those stories in the Prophet this summer – they're true, then?" Draco pressed Harry.

"Ginny and I broke up in May. So, _no_ , not all the stories are true. I'm not a cheat."

"So just the ones from June to August, then."

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

"Get a new insult, Potter." Draco laughed. "Right, so we'll have a game and we'll get to the bottom of your little mystery, and everyone lives happily ever after."

"What if I don't want to play?" Hermione objected..

"This isn't going to work unless you play, Granger," Draco responded. "In case you hadn't noticed, you and Potter are the golden ones. Where you go, the sheep will follow."

"What are you on about, Malfoy?" Hermione sounded incredulous.

"It's true," Daphne spoke up. "Drake, Blaise, Pansy, all of us Slytherins have had an easier time than we expected. It's because you two accepted us." She paused in thought. "Neville, too, actually. But he's doing it because you are."

"No, he's not." Hermione disagreed.

"What do you mean?" Daphne was confused.

"She means you're underestimating Neville. He's a leader, not a follower. If he didn't think you deserved a second chance, he wouldn't give you one. Doesn't matter what Hermione and I think," Harry answered.

Draco shifted in his seat, drawing his classmates' attention. "All of this share-care bullshit churns my stomach. Granger, are you in or not? We need you if this is going to work."

Hermione stiffened her spine and exchanged another look with Harry. "I'm in."

"You know, it's really creepy how you two do the whole silent communication thing." Draco commented.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Harry shot back, but the insult lacked heat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Beta Love: glittergrrrl05**

 **A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! It means more than you can possibly know.**

 **As always, _Harry Potter_ and the _Harry Potter_ universe are the property of JKR and her assigns. I make no money from this story. **

* * *

**Ch. 5**

 _Oct. 1981_

 _Flourish and Blotts_

"Don't turn around."

Sirius stiffened as he heard the familiar voice behind him. The stacks at Flourish and Blotts were hardly where he expected to hear from his brother again.

"He's going after you and the Potters, Sirius. You've been too public in your disdain. You need to run. Run as fast and as far as you can."

"When?"

"I think Halloween," Regulus hissed.

"I can't leave."

"Then at least send Mary and Catriona away; save them if you won't save yourself."

"Why are you telling me this? Feeling guilty about the shit you've done? I've heard what you did to that Muggle-born couple. I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I'm doing it for you and your daughter. I'm _begging_ you; he's going to come for you and your family. You _have to leave_. Please."

"And I'm telling you that I can't leave."

"I'm going to try to stop him but I don't think I'll succeed. I need to know you'll be safe when I'm gone," Regulus returned.

"Don't go haring off on a suicide mission, Reggie. We'll figure this out together."

"You can't help me anymore, Sirius. Please, save your family if you want to honor me."

Sirius whirled around to grab his brother, but he was too late. Regulus had disapparated.

"You can't be serious." James was flabbergasted. "Peter's our secret-keeper. You won't give us away, Sirius. But if Regulus is right, then you need to hide your family."

"James, it won't do any good; he'll just track us down. I don't have the resources I once had to hide them."

The solemn conversation was interrupted by the toddlers in the lounge, shrieking with laughter. Even as babies, those two seemed to have a preternatural connection to one another. Harry and Catriona were never so happy as they were when they were together.

Mary and Lily looked up as James and Sirius entered the room. Mary spoke up first. "I have a plan." And that plan was so audacious, so crazy, Sirius allowed himself to hope that it would work.

* * *

 _September 1998_

 _Counseling Classroom_

 _Hogwarts_

All twelve eighth-year students reluctantly filed into the classroom for their first weekly group therapy session. There were desks arranged in rows, but also an artfully arranged circle of floor pillows that were reminiscent of the Divinations Tower. Mercifully absent was the smell of incense, but the smell of roses permeated the air. Harry and Hermione sat down on the right with Neville in front of them. As the rest of group moved in, only the empty seat beside Neville remained when Daphne arrived.

After a few minutes, the door opened and an impossibly beautiful witch walked in. Tall, svelte, with curves apparent even under her black robes, the instructor glided to the front and turned to face the class.

"Good afternoon." Her husky voice had all the wizards sitting at attention. "My name is Zoe Trallop, and I hope that we will all be good friends."

Hermione suppressed a snort. _Good friends. Ha! And Trallop? What kind of name is that? Sounds like Trollop._

Neville, whose arm had been draped casually across the back of Daphne's chair, pulled his arm to the front and clasped his hands on his desk. Daphne turned and exchanged a meaningful glance with Hermione. If Hermione was reading her correctly, Daphne wasn't happy either.

"Today is merely a getting to know one another session. I will begin." She smiled a perfect smile, showcasing straight white teeth and red lips. "I graduated from Beauxbatons Institute several years ago and lived in France until just last month. However, I am English. My mother was French and married an Englishman, but she wished me to attend her alma mater. So, I do not have any preconceived notions about your Houses or characteristics of such." Her gaze lingered on various students around the room, especially Harry and Hermione.

Hermione clenched her jaw in annoyance. She leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. "Can you imagine Ron in here? It'd be like Fleur all over again."

Harry looked at her and grinned at the private joke. But when his warm gaze returned to Professor Trallop, it cooled immediately, and he leaned back, draping his arm around Hermione's chair protectively.

Hermione smirked in her direction. _Take that, Trollop._ She didn't consider why she was so annoyed by the new professor; it wasn't like Trallop had actually done anything wrong.

"So, let's all move from these uncomfortable desks and arrange ourselves on the floor pillows." They all obediently settled themselves on the pillows and waiting for further instruction. "Well, now that we're comfortable, let's have a lovely chat. Who would like to start?" She looked around encouragingly.

"Oh! I will." Pansy piped up.

"Wonderful. Tell me a bit about yourself," the professor encouraged.

"Well, I'm Pansy Parkinson, of the the Wiltshire Parkinsons. My third great-grandfather was Perseus Parkinson, the Minister for Magic back in the 1700s, and we're all Purebloods. My mother went to Beauxbatons, just like you!" Pansy's voice came out in a breathless rush. "Isn't that a coincidence? And let's see, I'm in Slytherin, but we all live together in the Eighth Tower."

Harry leaned over and whispered to Hermione, "too bad she's a traitorous bitch."

Hermione smirked. Clearly, Harry wasn't over Pansy's attempt to turn him over to Voldemort prematurely during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Professor Trallop turned her gaze to Justin Finch-Fletchley, seated beside Pansy.

"Uhh, my name is, uh, Justin Fi-Finch-Fletchley." The normally confident wizard looked a bit starstruck as he stared at their new professor.

Harry coughed behind his hand while Hermione rolled her eyes, disgusted.

"I'm in Hufflepuff, and, err, I didn't attend last year because of He-Who," Justin caught himself, "Voldemort. I didn't attend last year because of Voldemort, but I was in Dumbledore's Army in fifth year." He seemed to gain confidence with that and nodded definitively, never taking his eyes off Professor Trallop.

"Oh, you must be very brave, Mr. Finch-Fletchley."

Flags rose on Justin's cheeks under the Professor's flattery. "Well, uhh, I don't know about that. But, I, uh, I just try to do what needs to be done. I'm no Harry Potter."

Harry snorted. _Way to throw me under the Knight Bus, arsehole._

"I'm sure that's not true. How do you feel about that, Mr. Potter?"

"How am I supposed to feel about that, Professor?" Harry tried to keep the sarcasm of his voice, but Hermione could hear the anger underneath. The rest of the group wasn't nearly as cooperative as Pansy and Justin; Harry's reticence was contagious.

After the painful introductions were finally complete, the professor lit a pearlized pink candle on the table in the center and said, "Now, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to go in turn and have each of you tell me what you smell in this candle. Go ahead, lean forward and take a good sniff."

Hermione thought she recognized that color and sheen and had a nasty suspicion the candle was laced with something. She leaned over and smelled. _Sandalwood, leather, sunshine and what was that last note? Ahh, broom polish. It smelled like – Harry_. _Oh, I know exactly what this is._

"Now, everyone's had a turn. Who'd like to go first?" Professor Trallop looked around for volunteers.

Hermione set her jaw mutinously and looked around the room for any sign that her classmates realized what was going on.

"Harry, I can call you Harry, yes? What did you smell?"

Hermione's stomach dropped; she didn't want to know. _What if he smelled broom polish or the Burrow?_

Harry glanced over at Hermione. "Err, ahh…well – I "

"Professor, how is it helpful to have us smell an Amortentia candle?" Hermione interrupted. Her comment was greeted with a gasp from the other side of the circle, and a sigh of relief from Harry beside her.

"Why would you think that it is an Amortentia candle, Hermione?"

"Professor, really. We're eighth year students. Several of us are taking Advanced Potions; of course we recognize the color, the sheen, and the effects of an Amortentia candle." Hermione glanced around the room for confirmation. It was clear that if they hadn't before, they certainly understood now. Hannah looked a bit ill, and Daphne was ghostly white. Draco and Blaise wore their Slytherin smirks, but Harry and Neville nodded in agreement. "At any rate, I'm not telling you what I smell."

Trallop's laughter trilled. "Of course. Very clever. And you are the brightest witch of your age, aren't you? Should I take that to mean that you smelled something that would make you uncomfortable to discuss?"

Hermione just crossed her arms on her chest and stared.

Harry recognized the set of her jaw. Professor Trallop would get nothing further out of Hermione today, if ever. "Ah, Professor, perhaps if we understood why you felt this was necessary…." His voice trailed off, trying to lead her to answer him.

"Well, Harry, as I said, this was a getting to know one another exercise. I thought this would be helpful." She looked around the room at the set jaws and guarded expressions. "But I can see that you're not quite ready for that level of getting to know one another. Class dismissed."

* * *

 _That Night_

 _Room #4_

 _Eighth Tower_

"Hermione, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Who do you think of when you think about freshly tilled earth, pine trees, and just a hint of water in a tin can?" Daphne paused and thought about her next words. "And maybe wool, like a sweater?"

"Neville," Hermione responded without thinking. "Wait, is that what you smelled from the Amortentia candle?"

Daphne nodded mutely.

"He's really a nice guy, Daph. You should talk to him."

"I'm sure he wouldn't want to talk to me." Daphne caught her bottom lip in her teeth.

"Why not?" Hermione was startled that her normally confident roommate seemed so vulnerable.

"Well, Slytherin and all that."

"I told you, Neville doesn't care about that. If he likes you, he likes you; your House won't matter." Hermione tried to reassure her.

Desperate to take the focus off her quandary, Daphne blurted ,"What did you smell? Do you know who it was?"

Hermione hesitated. She liked Daphne, but she wasn't quite sure that she could trust her yet.

"Come on, Hermione…tell me." Daphne came over to Hermione's bed and sat down next to her. "I swear I'll keep it a secret."

 _I can't tell Harry, and Ron wouldn't understand. But I need to get this out._ "Swear you won't tell?" Hermione relented.

"I swear on my powers I won't repeat or use this information against you," Daphne replied dutifully.

"Sandalwood, leather, sunshine, and broom polish," Hermione whispered.

"Who is it? I'd say Draco, but he smells more like cedar to me." Daphne mused. "But broom polish and leather – that's a Quidditch player."

"It's Harry," Hermione whispered almost inaudibly.

"So it could be any - wait, what was that?" Daphne had continued on and almost missed what Hermione said.

"Harry. It's Harry." Hermione stated more definitively.

"I knew it! I knew there was something between you two," Daphne crowed.

"But there's not; he's like a brother to me," Hermione insisted.

Daphne was skeptical. "Really?"

"No, we've nev…." Hermione stopped. "We kissed. Once." Daphne raised her eyebrows, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Twice."

"That doesn't sound brotherly to me." Daphne pressed.

"I'm sure he doesn't think of me that way."

"You're sure? Has he said that?"

"Well, no," Hermione admitted.

"And who initiated the kisses?"

"It's complicated."

"How is it complicated? Either you did or he did. It's pretty simple, Hermione."

Hermione sighed. "Last winter, Ron had left us; Harry and I danced to a song on the radio, and we kissed. I guess he initiated it. But he apologized. And we decided to not complicate our lives by trying to build something else than our friendship. And then a last week, we were on our way to meet Molly and Sirius in Hogsmeade and he kissed me. But it was more like a peck, not a proper snog."

"What do you mean? About last week?"

"He was holding my waist and kissed me. It wasn't long and drawn out though, but it was a kiss."

Daphne sent her a knowing look. "It doesn't sound like he thinks about you as a sister to me, Hermione."

"He hasn't said anything!"

"He _kissed_ you, Hermione. I might be a virgin, but I'm pretty sure that's a sign he's interested."

* * *

 _Friday Night_

 _Eighth Tower_

 _Hogwarts_

Like they had arranged, Draco and Harry herded their male classmates back to the Eighth Tower after supper and took seats around the fireplace. The six of them sat comfortably talking about Quidditch and drinking Firewhiskey when Hermione and Daphne entered, leading a gaggle of girls including Ginny and Luna. Pansy and Susan had both left for the weekend, but since either Hannah or Padma was the most likely suspect for the mole, Draco and Harry decided to go forward with the plan.

"Ladies, come join us!" Terry called out from beside the fireplace.

"What are you drinking?" Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"This is the Eighths Tower, Head Girl…don't feel like you need to deduct House points," Blaise chided her from his chair. He patted the seat on the two-seater beside him. "Take a pew, and I'll share my…butterbeer with you."

"You're too charming for your own good, Zabini." Ginny made a show of walking slowly towards the proffered seat. Luna followed right behind her and sat next to Ginny on the two-seater.

Padma settled beside Ernie and Terry moved to sit on his ottoman so Hannah could sit in his chair, and Harry did the same for Hermione. Daphne paused almost imperceptibly when she saw the only place for her to sit was beside Neville. Hermione permitted herself a small smile as Daphne arranged her robes carefully on her cushion.

"Dobby!" Harry called out for the valiant house elf who followed him everywhere.

With a crack, he appeared. "Master Harry called Dobby?"

"Dobby, would you mind bringing us something to drink?" Harry's voice was gentle and polite.

Bowing and tugging at his ears, Dobby responded. "Of course, Master Harry. What you would like?"

"Butterbeer okay?" Harry asked, looking around the room. Seeing the nods, he turned back to Dobby. "Just some butterbeer with a cooling charm, if it's not too much trouble."

"Dobby is pleased to serve Master Harry and Master Harry's friends." After bowing once again Dobby disappeared with a crack.

"Harry, I can't believe you made him come back here," Hermione scolded.

"Don't tell me, you're still going on about spew," Draco mocked her.

"It's not _spew_! It's S.P.E.W., and yes, I am! Can't you see – " Hermione's diatribe was interrupted by another crack as Dobby reappeared with a tray of butterbeers.

"Thank you, Dobby. I really appreciate your help." Harry thanked the bowing house elf and took the tray.

"Anything for Master Harry." And Dobby disappeared. Harry handed out one to everyone. He was left with a tray of extra butterbeers that needed a resting spot. He looked about for a place to put it, and his eyes lit on his ottoman.

"Hermione, do me a favor. Bring that stool over here." He gestured towards the center of the circle with his foot, keeping the tray steady in his hands.

"Seriously, Harry, why did he come back here?" Hermione asked as she pushed the oversized footstool towards Harry so he could use it as a make-shift table for the platter.

"Do you think I could have stopped him, Hermione? Seriously stopped him? He insisted on coming to Sirius's house with me, and then when I left to come back here, he didn't ask, he just showed up."

"Isn't it sweet? The bickering married couple?" Blaise's mocking tone sent Hermione and Harry's heads whipping towards him and earned him a punch from Ginny. "Ow!" He rubbed his arm. "I was just taking the piss. No need for violence, Red."

"We're neither dating or married, and you well know it, Blaise." Hermione huffed as she plopped down in the chair she had vacated, crossing both her arms and legs. Harry wisely refrained from comment, but sat down on the floor and leaned against her chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the knees.

"What say you, Potter?" Draco joined in the fun. "I think the lady protests too much. Something you two aren't telling us?"

Harry laced his fingers and put them behind his head, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding eye contact with everyone. "What she said."

"Uh huh. Okay, whatever you say, Potter." Draco nodded his head slowly, his silver eyes narrowed on the couple.

"So, how are classes?" Hannah asked brightly in a bid to lighten the air.

Talk turned to the new version of the Slug Club, Flitwick's latest invention, and Weasley's DADA class.

The combination of the warm room and butterbeer relaxed them all. Daphne discarded her shoes, drew her legs up, and tucked her sock-clad feet under Neville's thigh. For his part, Neville draped his arm across the back of the couch, surrounding Daphne with his strength without overwhelming her. Closest to the fireplace, Hermione had also drawn her legs up, but Harry had turned to the side, angling to face most of his classmates, and his left arm rested casually across the bottom of Hermione's legs. Justin was nodding as if he was about to doze off.

Draco, smirk firmly in place, looked over at Blaise. "You know what this night needs? We need a game."

"I think you're right." Blaise agreed. "I vote for Twenty Questions."

"Twenty Questions?" Draco glanced around speculatively. "That could be amusing. And I just happen to have a crystal ball in my room."

Hermione straightened from her comfortable slouch and sent a sideways glance of concern to Harry. For a split second he looked equally ill at ease, but then nodded almost imperceptibly. She relaxed somewhat when his hand flexed on her leg, comforting her.

"What are you going on about now, Malfoy?" Terry sat up from where he relaxed against the arm of Hannah's chair.

"A game, Boot. You know, a little competition played for fun. Didn't you Ravenclaws do that?"

"Yeah, but..." Terry's voice trailed off as he looked around the room, coming to rest on Harry and Hermione.

Draco noted that look and challenged his roommate. "Potter, you in?"

Harry jerked his chin up in acknowledgement of veiled dare. "Sure, Malfoy. Sounds like fun."

"Perfect, then it's settled." Draco got up and headed to their room; when he came back out he had a crystal ball and a vial of potion. He set them on the tray with the butterbeers and looked around the room.

"Alright. Here are the rules. We're playing Twenty Questions, well, there's only twelve of us, so I guess Twelve Questions tonight. Anyway. First and foremost, what you hear in this room, stays in this room. No talking about it outside of this company. And I'm pretty sure someone could come up with an appropriate curse if you do. Isn't that right, Granger?" Draco raised his eyebrows in her direction.

"I don't know, Malfoy. Maybe we should ask Marietta Edgecombe."

"You'll put your question in the crystal ball by holding your wand to it and thinking the question like this." He tapped the crystal ball with his wand and the ball glowed briefly. "That light? It worked. If your question is already taken, then the ball will dim, and you'll need to come up with another question." He glanced at the participants.

"Any questions so far? No? Good." He held up the potion vial. "This is Veritaserum. I'll put a small dose in your butterbeer. But it's not enough to last more than a couple of hours."

"Veritaserum? For a _game_?" Padma's voice rang with disbelief.

"What's the fun in a game if you don't play it to the fullest, Patil?" Draco flashed a trademark smirk in her direction. "But if it will make you feel better, Potter can put the potion in the butterbeers."

He tossed the vial to Harry to put small amounts in each beverage and hand them out.

"Blaise – you have the Firewhiskey?"

"Drake, you disappoint me. Of course I have Firewhiskey." Blaise drew a full bottle out of a deep pocket in his loosened robes. "Don't worry, folks; it's charmed to refill when it's almost empty."

"Wait, shots of Firewhiskey? I don't…" Hermione started to protest.

"Please, Hermione; it might be fun." Harry nudged her, wheedling her to play.

"Oh, alright," she acquiesced.

"Well, normally, I'd say you take a shot with every question, but since we have so many, ahh, how shall we say, _lightweights_ , we'll just take a shot before we start, and before questions 5, 9, and 12. Blaise, if you'll do the honors."

Blaise handed each of them a small shot of Firewhiskey in conjured glasses. "Bottoms up, ladies and gentlemen." He toasted them all, leading them in taking the drink.

Coughs sounded from around the room. Daphne's splutter prompted Neville to pat her on the back. "You all right there, Daph?"

"Yeah, yeah." Daphne's voice was just little huskier than usual. "I'm fine."

"Blaise, you go ahead with your question," Draco instructed.

"With pleasure, my friend." Blaise pointed his wand at the crystal ball which glowed briefly. His smirk rivaled Draco's.

And when he settled himself into his seat, Ginny couldn't resist asking. "What did you ask?"

Blaise tipped her chin up. "That's for me to know, Red." His eyes dropped to her lips. "But don't you worry, you'll find out."

Everyone quickly began submitting questions, but unfortunately for Justin, it took three tries to get a question to stick.

Draco laughed. "Justin, why don't you go first?"

"What do I do?"

"Just touch the ball with your finger and a question will appear for us all to read." Justin did as he was bid and the first question wrote itself in the air above the center of the room.

 _Who was your first proper snog?_

Justin returned to his seat, and Terry, on his left, took another sip of his butterbeer and mused. "First proper snog? It was Lisa Turpin, third year."

Hannah laughed softly. "Um, Justin. Second year."

Harry was up next. "Fay Dunbar. Third year."

"I didn't know you kissed Fay, Harry." Hermione lightly smacked him on the back of his head.

Harry grinned at her. "I don't kiss and tell, Hermione; you know that."

Hermione nodded. "True. Well, anyway, my first proper snog was Viktor Krum, fourth year."

"Theo Nott, fourth year," Daphne offered.

"Susan Bones." Neville didn't elaborate.

"Pansy Parkinson. Second year." Draco said easily.

"Theodore Nott, I believe his name was." Luna's dreamy voice followed Draco's casual tone.

Draco choked on his butterbeer. "Theo was your first kiss?"

"Well I was looking for the dirigible plums, you see; my shoes had disappeared, then Theo was there and brought them to me. And he seemed like he needed a kiss."

Ginny suppressed a grin at Luna's wandering explanation. "It's no secret. Michael Corner, third year."

"It was one of the Carrow twins. Not sure which one." Blaise looked unrepentant.  
"First year."

"Oh that's right – I remember that. Good times." Draco laughed at the aghast expressions from a few of their classmates.

"What? The Carrow twins were fun." Blaise grinned at Ginny's narrowed gaze.

"Kevin Entwhistle." Padma named a fellow Ravenclaw.

"Well, you already know, don't you? It was Hannah." Justin finished the round for them.

Terry touched the ball and above it appeared the next question.

 _What kind of knickers are you wearing and what color?_

Hannah rolled her eyes. "So juvenile. White lace bikini style."

"Boxers." Harry thought for a second. "Some kind of plaid. I think."

"You don't know what kind of pants you have on Potter?"

Harry shot Draco a droll look. "No, Malfoy, but I'm just not so self-absorbed to match them to my trousers." Snickers sounded from behind butterbeers as Draco sent Harry a lazy two finger salute.

Hermione tugged her skirt down over the bottom of her drawn up legs. "This is so embarrassing. Red silk boy shorts."

Harry turned and looked at her with widened eyes before he slowly turned back around, slightly flushed.

"Daphne, you go. Please."

"They're pink. Ouvert style." Daphne tried to brazen it out.

"What the hell is ouvert style, Daphne?" Terry spluttered.

"Oh, look it up. Can we move on? Neville, it's your turn."

Blushing, Neville confessed, "Uhh, Y-fronts. White."

"Green silk boxers, of course." Malfoy didn't hesitate.

"Well, I find lace itchy. So I wear silk too. Mine are boy shorts." Luna turned to the wizard beside her. "We have something in common, Draco. Perhaps you'd like to see?"

Draco choked on his butterbeer.

"Alright there, Malfoy? Something get caught in your throat?"

"Bugger off, Potter." The quiet giggles turned to full-fledged laughs at the exchange.

"I'm wearing a black lace thong." Ginny interrupted the hilarity.

"I don't believe you, Miss Weasley." Blaise leaned over to her. "I need to see to make sure you're telling the truth."

"Oh, hardy har har. You know I'm telling the truth. It's your turn, Zabini."

Blaise gave her a small, promising smile. "I'd be happy to show you my black silk boxers, Red." He reached up and lightly chucked her chin. "Just name the time and place."

Across the room, Hermione and Harry exchanged a speaking glance.

Padma made show of fanning herself. "Is it hot in here? I think it's hot in here. And my knickers are blue bikinis."

"Mine are white y-fronts too." Justin grinned. "Sorry, all the questions I came up with were taken!"

"That's all right, Fletchley. I don't care if everyone knows I'm wearing red and white polka dotted boxers," Terry said around his next drink.

Hannah reached out and touched the ball, and the new question appeared.

 _What did you smell in the Amortentia candle?_

Harry froze and closed his eyes briefly. _Fuck._

"Wait." Neville interrupted before Harry could say anything. "No comments on this round. No taking the piss." He looked around and after he got nods, he turned back to Harry. "Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, it's fine. Old books, parchment, sunshine, and a hint of honeysuckle." Harry's glare dared anyone to say anything.

Torn between fascination at Harry's answer and mortification at what she had to say, Hermione looked down at her hands twisting in her lap and forced them to be still. _Oh my Godric._ _There was nothing for it but to brazen it out._ "Umm, leather, broom polish, sandalwood, and a sunny day."

Daphne, silently cursing Draco because this was the kind of question he'd ask, answered next. "Freshly tilled earth, pine trees, smell of water that's been in a tin watering can, and wool."

"It was like all the smells of winter, the snow, the pines, all of it, and there was just a hint of citrus." Neville paused. "It was clean, and crisp, and – just gorgeous."

Draco paused to consider his answer. "It was a flower I've never smelled, really exotic, moonlight, a freshly printed newspaper, and beneath that was freshly cut grass."

"I didn't get to smell the amortentia candle. It's a shame, really." Luna looked at Ginny. "Did you get to smell an amortentia candle?"

Ginny shook her head negatively.

"I guess Trollop, I mean, Trallop didn't try to get your year to spill your guts to her the first day?" Hermione asked them.

Ginny giggled. "Did you just call her Trollop? No, we just introduced ourselves to her. Was it the same for the Ravenclaws, Luna?"

"Yes, we just had a chat. I told her she had nargles roaming about her head, but she didn't believe me. I think that's why she was so cranky," Luna responded.

"Well, I smelled cinnamon, broom polish, lavender, and sugar cookies." Blaise looked like he'd rather do anything than say that aloud.

Hermione swallowed a snicker. _I know the smell of Ginny Weasley when I hear it described._

Padma looked around. "Leather, tobacco, thyme, and cloves."

Justin considered his answer. "It's kind of hard to describe. It was like flowers and fruit, all mixed together, but with this hint of chocolate. It was beautiful."

"I smelled freesia and clean clothes," Terry said. "I swear. That's all it was. Freesia and clean clothes. Who the hell could that even be?" He sounded a little indignant. "I mean, all of you have these really specific smells, and I get freesia and clean laundry. It's bollocks."

Hannah patted him on the hand. "It'll be okay, Terry. She'll turn up. And her clothes will be clean. If it makes you feel any better, I smelled leather and broom polish too, but green grass and ginger of all things. I have no idea who that is."

Harry cleared his throat. "It's me, then?" At the nods, he leaned forward and touched the crystal ball and waited for their question.

 _Who have you done the most with?_

Hermione's head tilted to the side in thought. "Whose question is this?"

"Mine, why?" Padma asked.

"I'm just wondering – how do you mean 'done the most'?

"How do you think I mean it? I mean, like, sexually." Padma's blush betrayed her embarrassment.

"I just – wanted to make sure, that's all." Hermione paused before she answered. "I'd have to say Viktor Krum."

His back pressed against her chair, Harry rubbed his forehead. _There_ _'s a mental image I could have done without forever._

"Theo." Daphne named the wizard she had dated for most of third and fourth years.

"Tabitha Churche." Neville's answer prompted a face vault from Draco and Blaise.

"Tabitha Churche? Slytherin, finished a couple of years ago? Hot blonde? Half-blood who rode for the British Olympic Equestrian team in the Muggle Olympics? That Tabitha?" Blaise asked for clarification.

Neville smiled. "I answered the question."

"I wish I could call you a liar, Longbottom." Draco shook his head. "But I can't. Fuck. Sorry, ladies. Fine, there have been several, but I guess you want the first. Girl from Beauxbatons. Adelaide Leclerc. I can't believe you, Longbottom. Tabitha? Do you know how badly – argh! I hate you right now."

"Well, I only kissed Theodore. He seemed like he would be fun to kiss some more. I hope you don't mind, Daphne. It was my fourth year," Luna's dreamy voice sounded. "Draco, you should really try to get rid of the crinkled nargles around your head. I think they're making you jealous." She waved her hand beside his ear, as if brushing off flies. Draco sat, mouth slightly ajar. "But I'm sure you kiss quite as well as Theo did.."

The rest of the room dissolved into laughter.

Ginny, wiping tears from her eyes, answered the question. "Dean Thomas."

Blaise, his shoulders still shaking with mirth, confessed, "Adelaide's older sister, Marie was first."

"It was Kevin, actually. We dated for over a year." Padma took her turn.

"Gayle Pocklington." Justin named a Hufflepuff a year ahead of them.

"Well, I guess it would be Mandy Brocklehurst. We dated for all of fifth and sixth year," Terry explained.

Hannah, on the other hand, didn't elaborate beyond a name. "Roger Davies."

Harry, who at this point was picking at the label of his butterbeer, looked up a bit sheepishly. "Cho Chang, umm, fifth year."

Across the circle, Blaise stood up to pour out the shots for the group. "Bottoms up!"

After a brief bathroom break, Hermione took her turn. The question that hovered sent titters around the room.

 _Would you rather have sex on a broom in the air or in a broom closet?_

"Broom closet." Daphne was definitive.

"I feel like I'm supposed to be all daring and say on a broomstick," Neville's mouth kicked up on one side in a grin, "but I have to admit I think a broom closet."

Draco decided to go for the shock factor. "Well, I think I'd like to give it a shot on a broom. Broom closets get kind of passé after a while."

"I think if you get the crinkled nargles away from you, then sex in the air would be fun too." Luna considered the possibilities. "But if you still have them, then they may upset your balance and the broom closet would be safer."

Biting her bottom lip, Ginny made a valiant effort to suppress her grin. "Ah, well, I'd be willing to try just about anything once. So, maybe in the air?"

"Brave girl. Want to ride my…broom?" Blaise winked at her. "I'm up for either place."

Padma shook her head. "Broom closet, no question."

"Yeah, I'm not quite that brave. I'm going for a broom closet too," Justin said.

Terry jabbed at Justin's arm. "Where's your sense of adventure? I think a broom in the air would be fun."

"I think you've lost your mind, Terry," Hannah piped up. "Broom closet all the way."

"Heh. I'd say – I'd like to try it on the broom." Harry looked off in the distance, nodding, as if calibrating the vectors and distances. "Yeah, I think on the broom in the air."

Hermione interrupted his ruminations with a slap to the back of his head. "Have you lost the plot? Harry Potter, if you did that, I swear to Godric, I won't bother saving you from the fall."

"Aww, don't be like that, 'Mione. You know I wouldn't fall off." Harry tried to cajole her into a better mood, rubbing the back of his head.

"And the unfortunate witch on your lap?" Hermione asked.

"I guess she told you, Potter." Draco grinned in Harry's direction.

Harry responded by sending Draco a two finger salute of his own and looked back at Hermione. "I wouldn't let yo - her fall either."

"Umph. Whatever. Obviously, a broom closet, while unsanitary, is the better choice."

Daphne uncurled from beside Neville on the two-seater couch and touched the crystal ball for the next question. And when it appeared, a collective groan went up from the witches.

 _Which professor would you not mind spending detention with?_

Neville grinned. "Professor Trallop is…." He quickly straightened his expression when he saw the look on Daphne's face. "Yeah, umm, I guess Professor Trallop."

"Trallop is hot, Longbottom. I think I'm with you on this one." Draco agreed.

Luna, as usual, interpreted the question in her own way. "Well, I personally enjoy talking to Professor Trelawney. She has a great deal of insight on the hallucinogenic properties of the dirigible plums and non-dirigible prunes."

Ginny had been thinking about the various professors and drew a complete blank for anyone she'd like to spend extracurricular activity time with. "Well, honestly, my favorite subject is flying, so I'd rather spend time working on my flying skills. So, Professor Hooch, I guess."

"Huh. Well, upon due consideration, I have to agree with Drake and Longbottom. Did you see the cur –?" Blaise cut his answer short at Ginny's narrowed-eyed glare. "Yeah. Okay. So that's my answer."

"Well, I personally very much enjoy Charms, and Professor Flitwick is an excellent teacher. So, I'd spend time working on my Charms." Padma said primly.

Justin looked vaguely apologetic for his answer. "Sorry ladies. It's Trallop. She's hot."

"I hate to be predictable, but Trallop." Terry closed his eyes in memory of the new professor. "Those curves…."

Hannah exchanged a look with Hermione. "I'd like to spend some extracurricular time with Professor Weasley. You want to talk about hot? Those scars…Umm, umm."

Hermione shocked everyone by high-fiving Hannah. "I'm with you. Those scars, and he's handsome anyway. Whew…." Hermione fanned herself when she spotted the revolted look on Ginny's face. "Sorry, Ginny; he's hot."

"Ahem, it was my turn, I believe." Harry interjected.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, Harry. But Bill, you know, he's really good looking."

"No, I don't know, thank you very much." Harry's disgruntled tone set off giggles. "I guess I'd say Trallop too."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you lot see in the Trollop? I don't trust her."

"Why, because she's attractive?" Terry asked.

"No, Terry. I don't trust her because she tried to _trick_ us on the first day of class. And she _insulted my intelligence_!" Hermione was clearly still indignant.

"I can't believe it. Granger just called a teacher a trollop _again_. Blaise, what did you put in these drinks?" Draco looked over at his best friend.

"Nothing, Drake, just Firewhiskey."

"All right, then, it's my turn, right?" Neville interrupted before Hermione exploded. "I'll just pull up the next question." He touched the crystal ball and the prompt appeared.

 _Who did you tell about Hermione's nightmares?_

* * *

Yes, I left it there. I'll be posting Ch. 6 on Bewitching Fiction directly. It will go up here next Sunday or Monday! As always, I appreciate it very much when you say nice things.


	6. Chapter 6

**Beta love: glittergrrrl05 (Thank you, thank you, thank you)**

 **Disclaimer: HP and the HP universe belong to JKR and her assigns; I make no money from the publishing of this story.**

 **Thank you so much for the reviews. Thank you, thank you. I will respond to you individually at some point, hopefully in the very near future, but I do read them all!**

* * *

 **Ch. 6**

 _Friday Night_

 _8_ _th_ _Common Room_

 _Whom did you tell about Hermione's nightmares?_

The jovial atmosphere died instantly.

"I didn't tell anyone except McGonagall, and you heard me when I did, Granger," Malfoy answered.

"I didn't know you were having nightmares, Hermione. I have a sleeping potion made from non-dirigible prunes that will help with a good night's sleep." Luna looked concerned. "But I can see the filterbilters around you and Harry. He could sleep with you and it would work just as well as a potion."

Hermione's face flamed red. "Err, thank you, Luna."

"I'd like to know who sold you out, Hermione. It wasn't me. I haven't even talked to Mom about it, but you know that."

"Thanks, Ginny. I really appreciate it." Hermione nodded to her friend.

"No one," Blaise responded.

"I didn't tell..." Padma started, but stopped. "I told Marietta. I didn't think anything about it, Hermione."

"Marietta Edgecombe? You told Marietta? Why? I thought you were my friend!" Hermione was furious.

"She and I are friends, Hermione! We were just talking. I wasn't trying to hurt you!"

"She _hates_ me, Padma! Of course she's going to paint everything in a bad light. How did it get in the _Prophet_?"

"I'm so sorry. She works for the Prophet in the advertising department." Padma looked distraught. "It never occurred to me she would do something like that."

She paused. "But you know what? It's partially your fault."

"Excuse me? How is it _my_ fault?" Hermione demanded.

"You did pretty much brand her for life with your little 'SNEAK' trick. Maybe if you'd had some compassion and fixed it at some point in the past couple of years, she wouldn't be so angry with you still."

"I cannot believe this. She got _pimples_ and now she's trying to ruin not only my reputation but Harry's too? Who the fuck does that?"

"Hermione," Harry's quiet voice cut across her consciousness, "I'm sure Padma won't be telling her anything else – " his green gaze shifted to Padma, "will you?"

She shook her head. "No. I understand her being angry, but I think it was a betrayal of our friendship, too. I won't be telling anything else that happens here. I swear."

"Well this has all been fascinating, but can we perhaps get back to having a bit of fun this evening? All this angst is terribly off-putting." Draco signaled Blaise to give him another drink of Firewhiskey. "And Padma has sworn to not reveal anything further; I'm sure she won't again."

Padma swallowed nervously at the menace in Draco's voice and nodded mutely.

"I haven't talked about it with anyone not here tonight." Justin took his turn.

And the answer was the same for everyone else.

"Excellent. My turn." Malfoy reached out, touched the crystal ball, and groaned. "Another freaking share-care question. This was not what I had in mind."

 _Would you give up the approval of your family for the love of your life?_

"I can't see my father objecting to the love of my life," Luna mused. "Unless, of course, he was having trouble with pinpointed porcines; but that's very rare, and I'd stay away from someone like that in any case."

Ginny's gaze focused on the crystal ball, obviously lost in thought. "It would kill me, but I think I would." Her voice firmed and she nodded definitively. "Yes, yes I would."

"Yes." Blaise smirked. "But I'd make sure I had enough money in my vault to live comfortably first."

"Umm, I think so." Padma's voice was quiet; she seemed chastened by what had happened to her.

"No." Justin shook his head. "My family means too much to me."

Terry picked at the label on his butterbeer. "I'd like to say yes, but I have to say, honestly, I don't know."

Nodding sympathetically, Hannah agreed with him. "I'm the same way, Terry. I just hope my family doesn't disapprove of whom I love."

"Well, I don't have a lot of family left. But if I did, I'd like to think they'd accept the love of my life." Harry paused. "But even if they didn't, I'd choose her."

"I agree with Harry for the same reasons," Hermione said, drawing random patterns on the arm of her chair with her finger.

Harry turned around and pulled her hand down to his shoulder and covered it with his hand. Hermione's shoulders relaxed as the simple touch registered with her.

"I would as well." Daphne didn't even pause and looked to Neville for his answer.

"I've never thought about it. But, yeah, I would. If the war taught me anything, it taught me the power of love."

"I don't know." Draco took his turn. "That's not a cop-out. I really don't know."

"Oh, I think you will, Draco. I'm sure of it. It's just the crinkled nargles that are making you doubt yourself." Luna added, "Blaise, will you hand out the drinks while I get our next question?"

 _What is your favorite sexual fantasy?_

"Now that's my kind of question!" Blaise turned to Ginny after taking his drink. "Tell me, Red, what's your favorite sexual fantasy?"

Ginny's face flamed red. "Quidditch pitch."

"That's it? The quidditch pitch? What about the Quidditch pitch?" Blaise pressed her.

"I _cannot_ believe I'm saying this out loud. On the Quidditch pitch during a game under a disillusionment charm."

"Red, I didn't know you had it in you." Blaise looked at Ginny with a light in his eyes. "My favorite fantasy. I have so many, but I think yours has shot to the top of the list. We should try it sometime."

"She has five, no, check that, six older brothers, Blaise." Harry narrowed his eyes at the other wizard. His head suddenly jerked forward for a second time that night as Hermione popped the back of his head. "Oww. What was _that_ for?"

"I can take care of myself, Harry. I don't need you or Ron – " Ginny began. "Or Bill, Charlie, Percy, or George to threaten my – " She caught herself, "to threaten anyone on my behalf."

Padma interrupted. "Mine is a beach. To be on my honeymoon and to make love on a private beach with the waves crashing around us."

"Oh, shit." Justin looked genuinely distressed. "I, uhh, Iwanttobetiedupanddominated." The words came out in a rush.

Harry blinked. "You want to be tied up and dominated? Is that what you said?"

Face flaring, Justin nodded mutely.

"Well, okay," Harry accepted.

Terry grinned. "Since third year, I've wanted to get a blow job on those pillows in the Divination classroom."

"I wonder if Trelawny would predict that." Hermione snorted and snickers sounded around the room.

"I'd like to be spanked." Hannah cleared her throat. "You know, as part of sex."

"I think the Hufflepuffs are closet kinky," Draco snarked after not one, but two eye-opening confessions from the Badgers. "What exactly does your House get up to after curfew?"

"Oh bugger off, Malfoy. Like the Slytherins have any room to talk," Justin shot back.

"God. This is cheesy." Harry groaned. "It's my wedding night and I'm in my own home. One no one can take from me. And my wife and I are starting a family of our own." He rubbed his eyes before he looked up and around. "Not kinky, I know." He shrugged. "but it's my favorite."

Hermione reached down and squeezed his shoulder. "You'll get that one, Harry." He turned and met her gaze.

Hermione looked up, and after a moment, confessed, "I'd like to have some mystery man sweep me away and kiss me senseless."

"I'd like to make love under the stars," Daphne admitted softly.

Neville considered his answer. "In a open orangery with the smell of citrus in the air; I'd set up a picnic, and well, you know, make love on a blanket in the middle of it. And maybe have some whipped cream on hand." He stopped. "Yeah, that's my favorite."

Draco smirked. "How very romantic of you, Longbottom." Neville rolled his eyes at the blond. "My favorite sexual fantasy? Oh, I know. A threesome. Just me and two witches to see to my every need."

"Oh, Draco, that's quite similar to mine, but I'd prefer a foursome." Mouths dropped at Luna's response.

Ginny reached forward and touched the crystal ball for the next question.

 _What would you do if an umgubular slashkilter threatened the one you love the most?_

Blaise leaned over and looked at Luna. "Uh, Luna, what in hell is an umgubular slashkilter?"

"You know, Blaise, it's a poisonous creature that can kill you with a look or its fangs." Luna gave half of the description of a basilisk.

"Oh." Blaise thought for a moment. "I guess it depends on whether or not I could kill it. But if I couldn't, I'd do whatever I could to protect her."

"Same." Padma concurred, as did everyone until Harry took his turn.

His eyes met Ginny's briefly before he turned to lean his side against the front of the chair, his arm across Hermione's lower leg, hand resting on her knee. "I'd end it."

"What do you mean, you'd end it, Harry?" Justin asked. "Those things are almost impossible to kill."

"They die." Harry shrugged. "You just need the right tools."

"And, what tools would those be, Chosen One?" Malfoy mocked from his perch at the back of the circle.

Harry shrugged. "The Sword of Gryffindor, for a start. Fiendfyre would probably do the trick too."

"What's the Sword of Gryffindor?" Justin queried.

"Just what it sounds like. Goblin-made sword that belonged to Godric Gryffindor. It appears to Gryffindors who have need of it." Harry shrugged. "It appeared to Neville too. Killed that monster Nagini." He faced Neville. "I don't know if I've ever told you, but you're a badass, Neville."

"Thanks, Harry." Neville's face flamed at the praise. "It just needed to be done, and I'm glad I could help defeat Voldemort."

"Voldemort did seem pretty pissed when you cut the head off his pet. Only thing he seemed to like." Draco shuddered at the memory. "Hated that fucker. Glad he's dead. And that creepy snake of his. Thanks, Longbottom."

Neville just nodded, embarrassed at the attention.

"Well, it's my turn, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "I'd do the same as Harry. I'd find a way to end the threat."

"I'm not sure. I think I'd find a way to avoid the threat if I could. But I'd definitely do everything I could to protect the person I loved." Daphne wasn't confident that she'd be able to kill something like a basilisk, but she was sure she'd defend the love of her life.

"I'd kill it, yeah?" Neville answered. "Sometimes it's the only way."

"I don't think the Sword of Gryffindor will appear for me, but," Draco said, "I could conjure Fiendfyre if I needed to."

"Well, I hate to hurt anything, but sometimes you must do what is necessary." Luna sounded uncharacteristically grounded. "I'd find a way to end the threat."

"I'd do whatever it took and hope the Sword of Gryffindor appeared. If it didn't, I'd conjure Fiendfyre." Ginny voice was haunted, a remnant of her time in the Chamber of Secrets.

"I'd do the same, conjure Fiendfyre if I had to." Blaise's jaw set. "Too many people died in the war. We'll never be the same. Any of us." And with that, he reached out to trigger the next question.

 _Who was the best kisser?_

Padma considered her answer. "Definitely Kevin."

"I have to say that Susan Bones was the best kisser." Justin looked around. "I feel bad saying that without her here."

Terry held up his hands in an balancing motion, like an old-fashioned scale, weighing his options. "Ehhh, I'm going to say it's a tie between Lisa Turpin and Mandy Brocklehurst."

"Best kisser?" Hannah paused. "Hummm. Let me think. Oh, I know. Neville. To date, Neville, you've been the best kisser."

Neville's face flared red. "Thanks, Hannah. You were, uhh, quite good too."

Harry was torn between letting Neville keep the spotlight and helping his friend out. But time ran out.

"So, Harry. Your turn. Best kisser." Neville took matters into his own hands to get the spotlight off himself.

 _Thanks for throwing me under the bus, mate._ Harry took another long drink of his butterbeer, looking for time. "Can I have another shot, please? Actually, pour two, if you don't mind, Blaise."

Blaise cocked his head to the side, considering the Gryffindor sitting on the floor in front of the brightest witch of her age. "Sure, mate, whatever you want."

Harry stood and got the shots from Blaise, and returned to the chair. "Hermione – can I sit?" She stood and before he sat he handed her the extra shot. "Take this with me." He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry about this." She nodded. After they both drank their portions of Firewhiskey, Harry sat and patted his lap. "You can sit here. No need for the floor." Hermione settled herself beside him with her legs draped over his lap.

"Quit stalling, Potter." Draco had a pretty good idea of what was coming.

Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist and leaned his head on her. "Hermione."

"I knew it!" Padma practically screeched from her seat beside Justin. "I always knew something was going on between the two of you!"

"We're just friends, Padma." Hermione tried to derail Padma before she really got going.

"If you're kissing, you're not _just_ friends. You're dating or you're friends with benefits, but you're _not just friends_."

"Whatever, Padma. Whatever. I'm not going to explain this to you." Hermione glanced down at Harry, aware of the Firewhiskey making its way into her bloodstream and making her reckless. "To answer the question, though, Harry."

"Oh no, we need to know more about this." Hannah, normally very quiet, entered the fray. "You're both going to get hounded about this, so you need to just explain and get it over with."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and appeared to come to a decision.

Draco shuddered. "It's so creepy how they do that, isn't it? Have this whole conversation without saying a word?"

"Oh, I don't know, Draco, I think nonverbal communication is really lovely to watch. You can see the flittering giblets moving around their heads. It's fascinating."

Before Draco could respond to Luna's comment, Hermione spoke up. "Fine. Last year. We kissed, a proper kind of snog, one time. We just kissed twice. That's it. Whole story."

"So which is it? Once or twice?" Neville's eyes twinkled. "Both are the truth, but what does that mean?"

Hermione deflated. _Bugger._ "There was one other kiss, but it wasn't a proper snog."

Ginny, who had been very still and quiet to this point, finally spoke up. "So, if it was the best kiss either of you have ever had, why not continue then? No one was around, right?"

Harry winced as his ex-girlfriend asked for an explanation. "It wasn't like that. We were dancing, and then we kissed once, and we remembered where we were and what was going on and all the other things that we had to settle. And so we decided to not be distracted by making a more complicated relationship between us. Really. That's what happened. And I can't lie right now, remember?"

Daphne, sensing that Hermione was about to say something she might regret later, decided to take her turn. "My best kisser was Theo. But it took a while to get there. Our first few kisses were kind of – meh. But eventually, yeah. He was a really good kisser."

Following Daphne's lead, Neville took his turn. "Honestly, Hannah was the best kisser too. Hadn't really thought about it. But it was really, really nice."

"Pansy is a really good kisser," Draco answered.

"I suppose Theo as well. He really was lovely. Daphne, I think he probably has you to thank for that."

Ginny appeared to be weighing her answer mentally, her head tilting from one side to the other. "All things considered, I'd say – Dean Thomas."

Blaise narrowed his eyes in thought. "The best kisser, off the top of my head, I'd have to go with Pansy too."

Padma tapped the crystal ball for the final question of the night.

 _Kiss the person of the opposite sex closest to you._

Hermione's voice broke the stunned silence. "Wait! This was supposed to be only questions! Not dares!"

"It looks like someone cheated, Granger." Malfoy smirked. "Are you too chicken to kiss, oh, it's going to be, Potter? You've already said he's the best kisser you know. What's the problem?"

"Hermione." Harry's voice intruded before she could get truly upset. "It's okay. It's just a kiss."

"But Harry – umph." Her voice cut off abruptly when he reached up and threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her lips to meet his. He took advantage of her slightly parted lips to thrust his tongue inside. She just barely kept from moaning out loud. _God, that feels right_. Her hands lightly grazed his upper arms as they moved towards his neck. Harry moved his hands to cradle the back of her head and draw her further into the embrace.

Hermione forgot where she was as their tongues tangled together. She tightened her grip on his neck and pressed her chest to his, her nipples pebbling at the contact. Beneath her leg, she felt him harden. _Why haven't we done this again?_ She tightened her legs, increasing the pressure on her throbbing clit. Sensing her growing frustration, Harry slowly began to pull back, gentling the embrace. They finally pulled apart, eyes hazy with passion and breath just a little too rapid.

As they regained their composure, foreheads pressed together, voices penetrated their cocoon.

"Merlin, that was beautiful." Hannah's voice was almost reverent.

"I knew it." Padma sounded smug. "Nobody who kisses like that are just friends."

"Well, Potter and Granger just set the bar." Blaise smirked. "Care to give us some pointers, Potter?" Ginny punched him in the arm. "Oww!"

Still looking into Hermione's eyes, Harry responded to the taunt. "Bugger off, Zabini." Harry reached up and stroked the side of her face and traced the outline of her lips with his thumb. Only then did he look around the room. "Aren't you voyeurs supposed to be kissing someone?"

"Are you saying that Dean kisses better than that, Ginny?" Luna's question caused a titter.

Ginny pondered briefly. "Harry never kissed me like that, Luna. And I bet she didn't kiss Ron that way, either."

"No, I guess they didn't. It's those flittering giblets that respond so well. You know a couple is destined to be together when you see them."

Hermione's eyes widened as she processed Luna's comment, but only Harry could see that.

Beside them, Daphne swallowed nervously and turned to Neville who reached his hand up, and in a gesture reminiscent of Harry's to Hermione, tucked it behind her ear and in her hair.

"Right. This okay?" She nodded mutely. He pulled her towards him and softly brushed his lips over hers. They caught, and held. Daphne's hands curled in Neville's shirt at his stomach of their own volition, and they both leaned forward, hungry for more. A catcall startled them both out of their own dream.

"What is with the Gryffindors and the kissing?" Terry asked from across the circle. "I think if we left either of those two couples alone, they'd need silencing and contraceptive charms."

Neville hadn't let go of Daphne, his hand still tangled in her hair. He tore his gaze from hers to respond. "Oi, don't be an ass, Boot." After gently untangling his hand from her head, he turned the rest of the room. "Harry's right; you _are_ a bunch of voyeurs. Aren't you supposed to be kissing someone?"

His words galvanized the room. Terry and Hannah and Ernie and Padma kissed briefly. But Blaise wasn't done.

"Drake, I think they've thrown down the gauntlet. Should we show them how it's done?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Ginny, who'd gotten very quiet watching her housemates. "Red? Up for the challenge? Should we top that?"

Ginny, startled by the deep voice in her ear, jerked her head around and recklessly threw herself into making herself forget her ex-boyfriend and one of her best friends kissing. They only broke apart at more wolf whistles and catcalls from Terry and Justin.

Luna ignored the kiss beside her, stood and straddled Draco's lap, settling herself in with a quick wiggle.

"Just what I thought. Those flitterbits around your head go away when you're sexually aroused, Draco. You really should have sex more often."

Everyone except the occupied Ginny and Blaise face vaulted to see a blush move up Draco's face, staining his pale skin red. "Ahhh." He had no words, so he kissed her instead. Their lips met in a clash of lips, teeth, and tongues. There was no gentleness in it; instead, it looked like the expression of pent-up frustration. Draco's hand snaked under Luna's peasant top in the back and pressed her against his chest as she rotated her hips in his lap. A strangled moan sounded, but it was impossible to tell who let out the frustrated sound.

They reluctantly pulled apart moments later. "I can't believe you exist." Draco's eyes devoured Luna's swollen lips and clear blue eyes.

Across the room, Daphne exchanged an arch look with Hermione. _This was interesting development._

* * *

 _1_ _st_ _Saturday in October_

 _Hogsmeade Weekend_

Hermione, Ginny, Draco, Blaise, Harry, and Neville awaited the two Ravenclaws, Felicity, and Emmeline, in the front hall by the doors. They arrived right on time, but their appearance prompted eye rolls from Hermione and Ginny. Their button-up shirts were just a shade too small and their make-up glamours were just a bit too much for daytime wear. The conversation lagged as Emmeline and Felicity blatantly angled for dates to the upcoming Halloween Masque.

Eventually, it was too much for Hermione to take. "You know, Ginny, I think it would be more fun to go without dates. Leave the formal dates for the balls. What do you think?"

Ginny considered her answer, but not for long. "You're on to something, Hermione. Let's do that! We'll go on our own." She turned to wink at Blaise. "That way we can dance with whomever we want." His responding slow smile sent a shiver down her spine. She tore her gaze from his and looked at the rest of the wizards. "Gentlemen, what do you think?"

Harry, already tired of Felicia – no _Felicity's –_ incessant chatter and clinging hands, nodded quickly. "I'm in. Neville?"

Neville was far too polite to whoop in excitement, but he nodded. "Sure. Sounds like fun. Malfoy, Zabini? You in?"

"I am," Draco said easily. "Blaise?"

He inclined his head. "I don't see why not."

Clearly peeved that Hermione and Ginny had so easily stymied their efforts to obtain dates to the first major social event of the year, Felicity and Emmeline redoubled their efforts and turned their attentions to the Yule Ball and Hermione.

"So, Hermione do have a date to the Yule Ball?" Emmeline clearly expected Hermione to say she did not.

"Yes, Emmeline, I do." She didn't elaborate.

Clearly taken aback, Emmeline rallied. "Oh, that's so sweet. Draco, it's so considerate of you to go with her so she doesn't have to go alone."

Harry opened his mouth to defend Hermione but closed it with a snap when she fired back. "Actually, Draco isn't my date to the Yule Ball." She glanced at Neville for confirmation that he was on board with her setting his date straight. At his abrupt nod, she continued, "Neville is."

Emmeline's jaw dropped.

"You really should close your mouth, sweetie," Ginny taunted. "You might catch flies."

* * *

 _Four Hours Later_

 _Eighth Tower_

"I'm never saying yes if a girl I don't know asks me out ever again." Harry flopped down in his favorite chair, throwing his legs onto the ottoman.

"Me either." Neville had his hand in front his eyes, as if trying to block the image of the date from his head. "I can't believe they hounded Hermione that way."

"They went after her with all the subtlety of an unhind – whatever Luna called a basilisk." Harry shook his head in disgust. "I'd never curse a girl without good cause, but they were pushing it."

"Mate, she really can take care of herself. She took everything they dished and handed them their asses." Neville lifted his head from his hand. "Did you see the photographer at Three Broomsticks?"

"Yeah." Harry answered sourly. "Sirius is going to flip if this makes the paper."

Neville scoffed. "Yeah, right; you know it will. Probably tomorrow, so brace yourself for a Howler."

"Bugger." Harry dropped his head to the seat back. "Why does anyone care?"

"Because you're Harry fucking Potter." Draco's sardonic drawl intruded on their conversation as he dropped down into the chair opposite Harry. "And she's Hermione Granger. There's no more interesting couple than the two of you. The only thing that would be more perfect would be you with the Weaslette and Hermione with Ron, like some children's fairy tale."

Harry rolled his eyes. "We don't need to live our lives for everyone else."

"Are you sure? Because the press would love it. Both couples, two point five kids, all one big happy family, sending them off to Hogwarts to be another generation of perfect Gryffindors." He paused for effect. "The only thing more perfect for them would be for me to be in a loveless, arranged, pureblood marriage with one spoiled heir, certain to carry on the miserable life I've led, the eternal bad guy."

Harry looked faintly annoyed at the prospect. "Well, they aren't going to get Hermione and Ron _or_ Ginny and me. It's just not going to happen."

"Why not?" Neville spoke up for the first time since Draco entered the conversation.

"Ginny and I just didn't work. When we were kissing, I wanted to be kissing someone else. It wasn't fair to anybody." Harry explained.

"So what was the look you gave when she kissed Blaise, then?" Neville pressed.

"That was me imagining Ron's reaction to Ginny, his precious baby sister, kissing Blaise."

"Enough said; I get it." Neville winced at Ron's inevitable reaction. "But I'm sure she can take care of herself even without five older brothers and a protective ex."

"As long as Zabini treats her well, everything will be – " Harry's comment was cut short by the wizard himself entering the room.

"Potter, Longbottom. Great time today. So when are you going out with your new girlfriends again?" Blaise made himself at home in the only remaining chair. "Quite clever, those Ravenclaws."

"Never." Harry didn't elaborate. _But any girls who think the way to get my attention is to treat Hermione poorly have another think coming. Hell will freeze over before I go on another date with Felicia. No, Felicity. Whatever her name is._

"Why not? That Felicia girl seemed really into you. Or was it Felicity? Anyway, she likes you." Blaise responded.

Harry just shook his head.

Turning his attention to Neville, Blaise prodded, "What about you, Longbottom? Looking forward to your next date with Emmeline? Going to drop Granger and go to the Yule Ball with your Ravenclaw instead?"

"That thought never crossed my mind, Zabini." Neville continued, "I don't think Emmeline is really my type."

"So tell us; who is your type, Longbottom?" Draco chimed in. "Who is it that smells like winter and citrus? Do you even know?"

"Yeah, Malfoy. I do."

"Are you going to ask her out?"

"Maybe. But it's not your business. Now bugger off."

"I think it might be, Longbottom." Draco turned to Blaise and abruptly changed the subject. "Quidditch practice in an hour. You ready to fly?"

* * *

 _Sunday Morning_

 _The Great Hall, Hogwarts_

" _TROUBLE IN PARADISE?"_

 _Exclusive to the Prophet: Hermione Granger was spotted with none other than Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and heir to Malfoy Industries, in Hogsmeade yesterday, apparently on a date. The Gryffindor Princess and Slytherin Prince chatted animatedly over tea and biscuits but were careful to avoid any public displays of affection. Harry Potter was also on hand with a lovely young woman sources tell us is a Ravenclaw sixth year. He kept a close eye on the new couple and cast more than a few warning glances at Mr. Malfoy, his roommate for the year at Hogwarts. Thus speculation continues to mount over the purported relationship between Miss Granger and Mr. Potter. Also present was Blaise Zabini, eighth year Slytherin; Ginevra (Ginny) Weasley, sister of Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor, and Hogwarts Head Girl; Neville Longbottom, eighth year Gryffindor, and another beautiful sixth year Ravenclaw. Incidentally, Ronald Weasley, it has been announced, was named Reserve Keeper for England's Quidditch team. He has not responded to our request for comment regarding the falling out between his best friends and the relationship between his sister and Mr. Zabini._

The three eighth year Gryffindors made identical sounds of disgust as they tossed aside their copies of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Of course, it'd be too much to ask for the Prophet to let us go on a simple date without making a society event of it," Hermione groused. "Why does this even matter?"

"At least they left the sixth-years' names out of it and blurred their pictures." Harry picked up his discarded paper for another look.

"It's because they're only sixteen and not in the public eye, yeah?" Neville agreed from behind his plate of eggs. "They might get sued by the parents otherwise."

"Who took the pictures, though? I didn't see a photographer." Hermione stared at the pictures, trying to determine the location of the culprit.

Harry's eyes narrowed in thought. "Neville and I think we spotted him. I've seen him before: brown cloak, clean-shaven with brown hair. I think he was outside Three Broomsticks when our picture got snapped with Sirius and Molly. Remember him?"

"No." Hermione thought back. _No, I really don't remember a whole lot between the kiss on the road and then the start of the disastrous talk. A raging hippogriff might have drawn my attention, but not much else._ "Where was he yesterday?"

"Sitting about three tables away."

An image snapped into her mind. "Short hair with a few grays? And it was kind of shaggy, like it needed a cut?" Harry and Neville nodded. "Yes, I do remember him. But I didn't see a camera."

"I didn't see one either, but he could have had a small one. And I'm almost certain he was the same man across the street when we were meeting Molly and Sirius. If I see him again, I'll find out," Harry promised.

 _Dinner_

 _Eighth Year Table_

 _The Great Hall_

Harry groaned when he recognized Cassie, Sirius's owl, swooping towards him. At least the envelope wasn't red. The regal black owl with gray spots landed between him and Hermione and held out its leg. Before he could detach the letter, Ron's owl, Pig, joined her and jockeyed for position on the table, jumping about, making it almost impossible to get Ron's letter. After a few moments of struggle, Hermione and Harry managed to get both letters, gave the owls a bit of beef, and sent them on their way. The letters were addressed to the two of them.

"I think I'd rather read what Ron has to say first." Harry started to tear open the letter when Hermione interrupted him.

"No, let's read them later in one of our rooms. That way we can talk."

Thirty minutes later, Harry tore open the letter from Ron and read aloud.

 _Harry & Hermione,_

 _Just got some rubbish owl about an article in the Prophet and you being on a date with other people. It must have been wrong because it said Hermione was on a date with that prat Malfoy. And who is this Ravenclaw chick, Harry? Weird. Decided not to answer, but tell me what's going on._

 _Practice is hard, but going well. Got an exhibition match against the Cannons in a few weeks. Hope to see you both soon._

 _Ron_

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Hermione reached for Sirius's letter. "I'm sure Sirius will be fine." She quickly skimmed the letter before she started reading aloud and blanched.

 _Harry & Hermione,_

 _Molly and I told you both to stay out of the paper! We know it's unfair. And this could have been much worse. But Harry, a sixth year? Too young. Hermione – Malfoy? Really? Tomorrow's Prophet will be full of Gryffindor's Princess and Slytherin's Prince, reformed Death Eater, etc. Unless you want to find yourself married to him, I suggest you be more discreet!_

 _Do not make Molly and me come back there. We can't forbid either of your from doing anything, but we're trying to protect you both. AND YOU'RE MAKING THAT UNNECESSARILY HARD._

 _Have you found your rat yet? Noticed that nothing private has been posted, which is very good. Keep it that way._

 _I'll be up for the first Quidditch match. How did tryouts go, Harry?_

 _Sirius_

Hermione gnawed on her lower lip in thought, distracting Harry with the resulting reddened, slightly swollen look of it. She was saying something, but his thoughts weren't with her. _I'd like to bite that lip._

"Harry, Harry! Are you listening?"

"What? Yeah. I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Harry shook himself free of his fantasy of kissing her again like they had just a few nights ago.

"I was saying that it could have been much worse."

"Oh, yeah. I didn't think about the speculation about you and Malfoy."

"Whatever. Let them talk. I don't care. Eventually, they'll talk about someone else." Hermione brushed off the concern.

"But what if Sirius is _right_? What if people use your social life against you? I mean, I dated several witches over the summer and it was no big deal, but it seems to be much more serious now." Harry, so long worried about saving the world, now found himself in the unfamiliar place of worrying about something he long considered trivial: a reputation. And he found that protecting Hermione and her reputation mattered quite a bit to him.

Hermione returned to chewing on her lip, and Harry stifled a groan as his body reacted to the unintentional provocation. _Please stop doing that._

As if responding to his unspoken request, Hermione released her lip from her teeth. "So what are we going to do? Ignore it? Issue a statement asking for privacy?" She paused. "I know. We'll ask McGonagall. She can help."

 _Monday Afternoon_

 _Headmistress's Office_

"So, Miss Granger, you're asking me if you should issue a statement, asking for privacy?" McGonagall asked, her fingers steepled in front of her.

"Yes, ma'am. Famous Muggles do it all the time. They ask that their children have privacy. And since we're still at school, I thought it might help," Hermione explained.

McGonagall brought her steepled fingers down and clasped them in front of her on the desk, considering Hermione over her glasses.

"No, Miss Granger, I do not believe you should issue such a statement." She paused. "I will do it in my capacity as Headmistress of Hogwarts. _But_ , you should know it will, in all likelihood, _not_ work. It is, however, as our Muggle friends might say, worth a shot."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed it. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Beta love: glittergrrrl05 (Such a talented author. You'll love stuff if you love fun and funny!)**

 **Disclaimer: HP & the HP universe are the property of JKR and her assigns. I make no money or profit from the publishing of this story. **

* * *

**Ch. 7**

 _Monday Afternoon_

 _Mid-October 1998_

 _Prof. Trallop's Classroom_

Harry and Hermione settled into their preferred desks in the classroom. Professor Trallop, thankfully, hadn't tried any further 'tricks', as Hermione thought of them. Instead, they'd been working on meditation techniques, breathing exercises, and had started a dream journal. Hermione still snickered when she thought about the day they'd done trust exercises. Draco had earned his lowest grade of the year for not trusting the Hufflepuffs to catch him, but since they'd waited until the last possible instant to do so, his distrust hadn't been so misplaced after all.

But today was different; Professor Trallop had a new game in mind for the eighth year students.

"So, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to play a game. It will be with your desk mates, so you may get to know them even better." She looked around the room. "We may change partners in a few moments, but first, let's see how this goes. I will give you the first word, and your deskmate will respond with the first word that pops into his or her head. You will then respond with the first word that pops into your head."

She looked around the room. "Let me demonstrate. Miss Parkinson, if you please?" At Pansy's nod, she reminded her, "the first word that pops into your head, please. Green."

"Slytherin," Pansy responded.

"House."

"Home."

"See? It's just that easy. And after a few minutes, we can discuss what we have learned." The professor checked that everyone was paying attention. "If you are on the right, you will be first; your word is 'war.'"

She made the rounds of the room, listening in on the conversations and pausing here and there when something stuck her attention.

"Voldemort," began Harry.

"Bellatrix," Hermione responded.

Harry paled. "Evil."

She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Madness."

"Finished." He returned the squeeze, looking into her eyes.

"Friendship."

"Love."

"Forever."

They fell silent, just looking at each other.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, why aren't you participating?" Professor Trallop appeared on silent feet at the side of their table.

"Sorry, Professor; we just had a lull," Hermione answered. "Perhaps you'd suggest another word for us to use as a jumping off point."

"No, that's fine; I heard much of what you said. Let's discuss it."

* * *

 _Thursday Morning_

 _Mid-October 1998_

 _Hogwarts School_

The eighth year boys had all gathered in the common room to discuss the upcoming Halloween Masque. Terry called the impromptu meeting to order. "Anybody else getting shit about their costume?"

Grumbles of assent surrounded him.

"Pansy's going as a butterfly, and she wants me to go as the fucking cocoon!" Blaise sounded particularly disgruntled.

"Daphne wanted me to go as Jack Frost - something about her going as winter and it's 'perfect' with my hair." Draco paused. "Not going to happen."

"Hermione didn't ask me to go as King Arthur, but it was a near thing." Harry shuddered at the thought of Arthurian robes.

"We could refuse to go," Justin offered. "Stay here; have some drinks."

"While I understand the appeal of avoiding a fancy dress party, I'd just as soon not miss the opportunity for some," Draco paused for effect, "quality time with the ladies."

"I agree with Drake; I've got better things to do than sit with you tossers," Blaise spoke up. Harry narrowed his eyes at the wizard. He knew exactly which witch Blaise was interested in seeing, and Ron was relying on him to keep an eye on Ginny.

"So we all want to go, but we don't want to dress up like a bunch of boffins," Harry stated the obvious. At their nods of assent, he continued, "Then what do we do?"

Neville piped up. "My gran has pictures from Halloween Masques when she was young. The wizards didn't wear costumes; they wore half-masks and dress robes."

"That's a good idea," Terry mused. "We could all glamour our hair the same color, and wear dress robes and half masks. We'd still be in costume, but not look like a bunch of idiots."

"You're right," Harry agreed. "And we can tell the girls we'll be in costume - maybe they'll quit nagging us about it."

"People will still know who we are," Justin objected.

"Are you a wizard or aren't you? We can all look exactly alike if we want, Fletchley, but that's not the point. The point is we'll all be participating so McGonagall can't get pissed that we're undermining house unity or some such shite, but we're still not looking like a bunch of pussy-whipped fourth years." Draco looked around the room. "Who's in?"

Before anyone could respond, Hermione crossed the common room, headed to her room. She had a book in her hand and acknowledged the wizards gathered in front of the fireplace with an absent-minded wave of her hand.

Harry's eyes lingered on her retreating form, but his attention snapped back to his comrades when he heard Terry say, "She's even hotter now. I may ask her out."

 _I don't have a claim on her. She's only my best friend. We're not dating._ Harry's fist clenched on his lap as he struggled to keep his face neutral. _I don't have a claim on her._ But two others noticed his reaction.

Neville spoke up. "She's taken."

"By whom, Longbottom?" Terry challenged. "Because last I checked, she's not dating anyone."

Draco's drawling voice floated across the circle. "Unless you want to go wand to wand with the Chosen One, you should steer clear."

"We're not dating, Malfoy. Boot can ask her out of if he wants." Harry just managed to keep his tone even.

"Really, Potter? Because I saw that kiss the other night in this very room. Looks like that to me." Draco paused. "Or something similar. And who else smells like books and parchment, sunshine, and - what was that flower, honeysuckle?"

"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy. It was a dare." Harry didn't even attempt to tackle the smell comment because even Grawp would recognize that scent as being Hermione.

Neville chose that moment to speak up. "It didn't look like just a dare to me."

"Are you taking the piss?" Harry snapped defensively.

Neville shrugged off his retort."It looked like the kind of kiss that warns other people off."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I think she can take care of herself just fine without me warning anyone."

"That may be true Potter, but you're trying to do it anyway," Draco concluded.

* * *

 _Thursday Morning_

 _Charms Classroom_

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, in groups of three, use the Charms we've discussed to dismantle disguises and changes unaffected by the standard ' _Finite Incantatum._ '" Flitwick waved his wand and names appeared as trios on the board. "Please begin."

Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes when they found their names: Granger, Malfoy, Potter. Scrapes and scratches sounded throughout the room as students dragged their chairs and desks together to begin the assignment. Malfoy, of course, simply levitated his chair down a level to join them at their table.

"Work smarter, not harder." His evident self-satisfaction elicited reluctant laughs from the Gryffindors.

"Well, Malfoy, you're not wrong," Harry agreed. "So, how are we going to do this? 'Mione, you're the best at Charms of us. You want to change your appearance or something? See if we," he gestured to Draco, "can crack it?"

"Fine with me. Give me –" Hermione looked over the section in the book again, "fifteen minutes."

Draco shrugged. "Works for me." He pulled his book from his bag and flipped to their chapter. "Potter, you have any ideas?" They spoke quietly while Hermione performed non-verbal magic with complex waves of her wand.

"I'm ready," Hermione interrupted. The wizards both took exception to the smug tone in her voice, daring them to break her charms. The trio stood and moved about five feet apart, and Harry and Draco both took in her appearance. She changed the color of her tie from Gryffindor burgundy and gold to Slytherin green and silver, and the patch to the Slytherin snake.

"Hermione, really? You went to Slytherin?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Red and gold really are better on you."

"I don't know, Potter; I sort of like the change." Malfoy playfully leered at her.

"Don't flatter yourself, ferret; it wasn't for you. These very specific changes will be much harder to break than a broad one, like if I'd changed my jumper color or hair color." Hermione's smile bordered on arrogant. "And quite frankly, I don't think you boys can break the charm."

Harry twirled his wand in his fingers. "Think that, do you, 'Mione?" He raised his wand and pointed it at her without giving her a warning. " _Majica finis."_ A stream of pink light hit her with no impact on the tie or badge.

"Nice try-" Hermione began, but before she could finish, another stream of light hit her, this time, purple. Malfoy had sent a spell at her accompanied by a _"majica revalabit_." There was still no impact on the tie or the badge, but what Hermione could not see, nor did her classmates notice, was that the glamour that covered the brown crescents under her eyes disappeared, and her hair darkened just a shade.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. They clearly expected that their separate spells wouldn't work, so they stepped closer together and, in unison, recited their spells.

" _Majica finis_."

" _Majica revelabit._ "

The pink and purple strands of light met and intertwined before hitting Hermione in the chest. She staggered back under the impact, her hair instantly darkening several shades. When she lifted her eyes to meet Harry's startled gaze, he gasped; they were _grey_ \- like Sirius's eyes.

He turned to Malfoy. "What the fuck did you do, Malfoy?"

"I didn't do anything, you tosser! It was you!" Draco answered, outraged.

Hermione looked at them as if they'd lost their minds. "What's wrong with you two?" She pointed at her tie and badge, restored to their original Gryffindor symbols. "You actually broke the charm."

Harry felt sick. He stepped forward and pulled a lock of hair down from her messy bun. "Hermione, look."

Her skin paled at the sight of the dark brown strand, and none of them bothered to conceal their panic. "Professor!"

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

 _Grimmauld Place_

A name appeared below those of Sirius and Mary on the Black family tapestry.

 _Hermione_ _Pleiades Black_

 _1 January 1980_.

But there was no one there to see; Sirius, as usual, was avoiding the room.

* * *

 _Mid-Morning_

 _Headmistress McGonagall's Office_

Hermione sat in front of the Headmistress, her distress obvious in her rapidly blinking eyes and bouncing knee. McGonagall noted her right hand, clasped tightly in Harry's, the other holding a handkerchief that she used periodically to blot her eyes. The Headmistress took in the wizards who flanked her. Harry was openly concerned, holding her hand and periodically stroking the back of it in an attempt to soothe Hermione, while Draco sat, outwardly calm, on her left. But McGonagall had been teaching young people for decades; she could see he was unnerved by what had happened in Charms class that morning.

"Perhaps, Mr. Potter, you would tell me what happened this morning."

Harry dragged his concerned gaze from the witch at his side. "Prof – I mean, Headmistress, we were discussing advanced disguising charms, how to perform them, and how to break them. We –" he gestured to Draco and Hermione, "were in a group together. Hermione charmed her tie and badge to be Slytherin."

McGonagall looked impressed at the precise nature of Hermione's charmwork. "That would be difficult to break."

"Umm, yes. Well, Malfoy and I knew she'd be hard to beat. I mean, it's Hermione." He swallowed and continued. "So, we decided to try individual spells first, thinking it would soften her work. And so we did." He shook his head. "Nothing much seemed to happen. I mean, I _think_ she looked a little tired after I sent the _Majica finis_ , but it didn't do anything to her badge or tie. Then Malfoy used the _majica revelabit_. And I didn't see anything then." He looked over at Draco. "Did you?"

"No, not really." Draco paused. His forehead creased in thought. "Well, maybe. I thought it was a trick of the light, but her hair looked a little bit darker. Nothing like that, though." He jerked a finger, pointing it at Hermione's sable tresses.

"Minerva, may I suggest that you call Mr. Black? I believe we will need him here," Dumbledore spoke from his portrait, his eyes twinkling even in death.

McGonagall looked confused. "Why would we need him, Albus? Don't you think the situation is more suited to the healers? I doubt Sirius has anything of import to add-"

"I believe the man would like to meet his daughter, Minerva."

"What?" Hermione's voice was a strangled scream of pain and confusion.

"What the bloody hell are you going on about, Professor?" Harry was normally deferential to everything related to Albus Dumbledore, but this latest blow to Hermione was a stretch too far.

"It is Sirius's story to tell, Harry." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes vanished, and he looked as tired as a portrait could possibly look.

McGonagall interrupted the discussion. "Mr. Malfoy, you are welcome to go about your day. I believe we have everything we need from you at this point." She turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, if you wouldn't mind, would you please Floo your godfather? It seems we need him."

"Headmistress, would you mind if I just go there? I think I need to talk to him." Harry stopped and looked anxiously at Hermione. "Will you be okay? I'll stay with you." He looked back at the elderly witch behind the desk. "Never mind. I'll just-"

"Harry Potter. Really? I'm shocked, not _in shock_! I'll be perfectly fine." Hermione yanked her hand from Harry's grasp and crossed her arms over her chest. "I want answers, and the fastest way to get them will be for you to go to Sirius. Because he won't react well if all this is true and he just stumbles into it."

Before Hermione could get really going, McGonagall cleared her throat to interrupt. "Miss Granger, I have a few things that we could go over while Mr. Potter is absent. And Mr. Malfoy, I believe I told you that you were free to go."

"Yes, ma'am." Draco was obviously reluctant to leave as he stood. "Granger, Potter." He nodded to his classmates as he began his move towards the door.

Harry stood and made his way to the Floo, but turned around and walked back to Hermione, squatted in front of her, and held both her hands. "Hermione." His voice drew her now-grey eyes to his brilliant emerald green ones. "We'll get through this. I'll never leave you; I'll always come back. _Know that_."

She gave him a shaky smile. "I _do_ know that, Harry. Thank you."

Harry leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek and then pressed his forehead to hers. "I'll be back soon." He stood and swiftly walked to the fireplace; he tossed in the Floo powder, shouted "Grimmauld Place!" and stepped through to Sirius's lounge.

* * *

 _Seconds Later_

 _Grimmauld Place_

Sirius was comfortably ensconced in his favorite recliner - a gift from Arthur Weasley - and was reading the _Daily Prophet_. The Floo activating startled him, and he reached for his wand automatically. Old habits died hard, very hard. But the familiar form of his godson had him relaxing, setting aside the paper and the wand, and standing to greet his unexpected visitor.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" He held out his arms to give the young wizard a hug that Harry briefly returned. "What's wrong? McGonagall wouldn't let you out for fun on a Thursday morning."

"It's Hermione."

"What's happened? How can I help? There was nothing in the paper this morning, so you two must be doing a good job keeping the press at bay." Sirius thought back to the articles that had been appearing with disturbing regularity until just a few weeks prior.

"Maybe you'd better sit down." Harry stopped. "On second thought, do you have a Pensieve around? Because this might be easier for to you see and understand than for me to explain."

That statement earned a truly confused look from his godfather.

"Sure; it's in the library." Sirius lead the way to the small Black family library on the first floor. "Everything alright, though? No one hurt?"

"No, no. Everyone's fine." Harry paused. "Well, I guess. Just-" he huffed out a sigh. "It'll be easier for you to see."

Sirius opened the door to the library and waved Harry in ahead of him. "After you."

The Pensieve sat in a position of prominence on a stand in the middle of the room, at the perfect height for Sirius to view memories. Harry touched his wand to his head and drew out the long, silvery memory and deposited it in the vessel. He watched as Sirius dipped his face into the bowl. It seemed forever, but Harry knew when he reached Hermione's change; Sirius's whole body jerked. And then, when Dumbledore spoke, Sirius stood straight up.

"What the bloody fucking hell!"

"I don't know, but he really seemed to think you would."

Sirius ground his jaw so tightly, Harry would have sworn he heard teeth crack. "I lost my wife and my daughter the night your parents died. This must be some kind of hoax."

"Are you sure about your daughter? I mean, could she have lived?"

He was visibly shaken. "I don't see how she could have."

"Sirius, I know you said we could talk about this later, but maybe if I had the whole story, I could help." Harry reached a hand out to him, but dropped it when Sirius shook his head.

"Come with me." He lead Harry to the tapestry room next door. He strode to it and jabbed a finger at Andromeda's blasted-off image. "Do you see this? This is what happens when Blacks marry Muggle-borns."

But Harry wasn't paying Sirius any attention; he was too busy staring at Sirius's recently restored picture and the line to a pretty brunette witch beside him with a child below. Sirius turned around when Harry made no response.

"Harry, I'm trying to ex-" his voice trailed off. "Fuck. I'm going to fucking kill Dumbledore! I'll rip that portrait off the Merlin-bedamned wall…" his tirade continued as he stalked out of the room, headed for the Floo.

A beat later, Harry tore off down the hall to stop Sirius before he did something truly stupid, like invading Hogwarts and tearing down portraits of dead Headmasters.

"Wait! Wait! Godric damn it, wait, Sirius!" He grabbed his godfather's arm as he reached for a handful of Floo powder. "You can't fucking storm in there like a Death Eater on a charge!"

"Let me go. I need to see my _daughter_." His voice broke on that last word. "How could this have happened, Harry? She was dead. Her blanket… it was covered in blood. _Her_ blood. And Mary, she was…." Sirius let the tears run and collapsed on the floor.

Harry sank to the floor beside him. "Tell me what happened, Sirius. Please, let me help. Hermione, she needs me; she needs _you_. We can figure this out."

Sirius let out a huge breath and choked back the tears; he wiped his face with a conjured handkerchief. "I need to get to Hogwarts; we'll sort it out together."

Harry realized he was right; there was no need for Sirius to tell the story more than once, and they did need to get back to Hogwarts. Reaching out for each other, the wizards clasped hands and stood together. Harry grabbed a handful of Floo powder and shouted "Hogwarts," and stepped through to McGonagall's office, Sirius on his heels.

* * *

Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, I'd love to know. :) I'll be posting Ch. 8 on Bewitching Fiction before it goes up here, as usual. It's with glittergrrrl now, so hopefully I'll get that posted over there this week.


	8. Chapter 8

Beta Love: Glittergrrrl05

A/N: Thank you for the positive feedback. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Disclaimer: HP & the HP universe are the property of JKR and her assigns. No profit is made from the writing of this story.

* * *

 _Halloween Morning, October, 1981_

 _Sirius & Mary's Home _

"Sirius, I've talked to my cousins. They've agreed to take Catriona and are willing for me to alter their memories so that they believe she was adopted from a regular agency. I'll use the most powerful charms I know to disguise her. She'll be safe there, and then I'll come back to you. We'll face this together with her safe, away from this horrible war."

"Will we ever get her back?"

Mary ran her fingers through her husband's hair. "When this is all over, we'll find a way. I can use the _Memoria fortior_ charm. The longer it remains in place, the stronger it gets. So, if this is over soon, then yes, we can. But if this lasts years or the worst happens, she'll be safe forever."

"Return to me, my love."

That night, when Dumbledore brought the bloodstained blankets, Sirius felt all hope die. He'd lost his wife and his daughter; he had to get to James and help save what was left of his family. But he was too late.

He spent thirteen years in Azkaban, looking forward to the day he would avenge his wife, his daughter, and his best friends.

* * *

 _Thursday, Late Morning_

 _Headmistress's Office_

Harry stepped through the Floo with Sirius on his heels. His gaze zeroed in on Hermione, curled into a ball on the sofa, asleep.

McGonagall looked up from her seat as Sirius and Harry appeared. "She cried herself to sleep," she whispered. "I've never seen her so - undone."

Harry crossed the room and stroked her hair back from her face. "Hermione, wake up, love."

She stirred and slowly sat up. "What? Where? Harry. What are you doing?" And then it all came back in a rush. She touched her face and ran her hand through her hair. "It's true?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, Hermione, it is. Sirius is here. We can get it all sorted, yeah?"

Identical pairs of gray eyes met across the room.

"Catriona," Sirius whispered. "It's really you. You're alive."

Hermione sought refuge in her academic nature. "So, that was my name, then? Catriona?"

"Ahh, yes. Catriona Pleiades." Sirius's mouth twisted. "I'm not a very good Black, but I still wanted to carry on the tradition of a constellation for my child's name. We named you Catriona to honor your mother's Scots heritage."

"Who was she?"

"Mary MacDonald. She was a Muggle-born in my year. And you, you're so much like her." Sirius blinked rapidly, clearing tears. "I don't know how I didn't see it before."

 _Treat this like any other academic exercise. What questions would I ask if it were another student?_ "What happened?"

"It…it's a long story." Sirius turned to McGonagall. "Do you mind if we talk in here, or should we go somewhere else?"

"Of course. Would you care for privacy?"

"No, no, of course not, please stay Professor," Hermione stammered out, abruptly panicked at the thought of her favorite professor leaving. She grabbed Harry's hand. "And you stay too, Harry. Please, sit with me."

Sirius sat in a chair opposite the sofa, facing the pair. "I met Mary when we were both sorted into Gryffindor." A ghost of smile flitted across his face. "You were destined to be a lion, Hermione."

"So, we married after graduation. And to get to the heart of the matter, Regulus warned me that Death Eaters were coming after us. We were desperate to make sure you were safe." Sirius stared into the fire. "Mary had cousins who were childless, and we hid you." He dragged his eyes from the fireplace to look at his daughter. "No, that's not right; she hid you. I didn't know her cousins' names; I thought they were MacDonalds, like her. But she modified their memories, so they thought they'd adopted you from an agency as a small child. I don't have to tell you how ruthless Death Eaters were. It was to protect you all."

"Were you ever going to come back for me?" Hermione's voice was small.

"Yes, yes of course we were." Sirius linked his hands and leaned forward, propping his arms on his legs. "We wanted to, we planned to. But we were at war, Hermione. We had to do whatever it took to keep you safe. And we didn't have the same charms that James and Lily did on their home. So she took you to hide you from the Death Eaters." The grief pouring from him was palpable. "I hoped - " He started again. "I hoped we'd both survive to get you back, to reverse the spells. Your mum, she was amazing at charms. I think you inherited that gene." His smile was sad.

"But she told me that she'd talked to her cousin, the man who raised you, and his wife, and they'd agreed to raise you as their own. And they did. I don't know, I'm so sorry, Hermione. They agreed to have their memories modified, and Mary - she was a force to be reckoned with. Like you. And she'd have done anything to keep you alive, even if it was in the Muggle world. You were the only thing that mattered. You were her world. You were _our_ world. And now you're here, and you're alive, and I'll never leave you again."

"So that's why I can't fix my par - their memories. My biological mother's charm from when I was a child." Hermione surmised. _I can't deal with his emotions right now. I can't. I'll think about it tomorrow_. She still couldn't process the conflicting emotions raging through her, so she sought to find solace in the facts.

Sirius nodded. "Yes."

"What happened to her?"

"She left to take you to her cousins. We were to meet up again at our home, but she never returned. I received the news from Dumbledore. And he gave me your - " his voice broke. After hauling in a breath, he continued, "blanket. It was soaked with your blood and Mary's. I set out for Godric's Hollow, but by the time I got there, it was all over, and James and Lily were gone. I'd lost everyone close to me, so I went after Peter; you know the rest."

"Are you certain it's me?" Hermione's hand was still clasped in Harry's, but she reached up to touch her changed hair with her other.

"The Black tapestry changed, Hermione. I saw it," Harry interjected. "Your name appeared." He paused. "Well, it said 'Hermione Pleiades Black' beneath Sirius's and Mary's name. It wasn't like that before."

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. _Godric help me. I know my mother - I obliviated her memories to save her, sent her away to protect her, and I'll kill her if I try to bring her back to me. And now, now she wasn't my mother at all?. NO. Jean Granger is my mother._ "So many things make sense now. Why the glamour charms wouldn't stick. And when they did, it was only after repeated attempts. It's like we were battering away at the charm my - " Hermione swallowed thickly and choked out the name rather than the relationship, " _Mary_ put on me. Harry, you and Draco must have just been the final straw. And then the memory charm with my parents. Mary used the _Memoria fortior,_ didn't she? It strengthens over time. " _My parents._ At Sirius's nod, she continued, "That's probably why I was so desperate to save you at the Ministry of Magic; on some level, I knew."

"Yes," Sirius agreed. "And truth be told, it's probably part of why I've been so angry about the newspaper articles. When they were just about Harry this summer, I wasn't nearly as upset, but when they started in on you, Hermione - " He shook his head. "I'm still angry."

"Sirius, she's safe with me; she's safe here." Hermione leaned into Harry as she had so many times over the past year. He'd been her refuge, and she had been his. He wrapped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her even closer, brushing a soft kiss on her head. Harry glanced over to see his godfather's jaw clench ever so slightly. "I promise; she's safe. I'll -" Harry glanced over at the Headmistress and re-thought what he was about to say. "We'll all take care of her."

* * *

 _Thursday, Early Afternoon_

 _Grimmauld Place & the Ministry for Magic_

Sirius Flooed home from Hogwarts in a state of shock. He immediately made his way to the Tapestry room and touched the tiny woven portrait of his beloved wife on the Black Family tapestry.

There, for anyone to see, was her death date, Halloween, 1981. She was well and truly gone.

"I'm so sorry; I thought she was dead, Mary!" The tears he'd been holding back flowed down his face. "I'll protect her now, though. And you'd be so proud - she's the brightest witch of her age. Harry and Ron wouldn't have lasted two days without her last year."

With a final stroke to Mary's name and then Hermione's, Sirius turned and stalked out the door to the Floo in the front lounge. Throwing the Powder in the fireplace, he shouted, "The Ministry for Magic!" Upon arrival, he made his way directly to the Minister for Magic's office.

There, sitting guard was a very pretty witch, whose desk nameplate proclaimed her to be 'D.K. Finnigan.'

Sirius hadn't taken the time to change out of his very comfortable, worn-in Muggle jeans and v-neck t-shirt nor his leather jacket before heading for Hogwarts after Harry's unexpected arrival. As he approached, he glanced down and mentally shrugged in resignation.

"Hello, Ms. Finnigan, I'd like to see Kingsley." Sirius had been on a first-name basis with the Minister for years and decided to use any advantage he might have.

The witch behind the desk appraised him with a sweeping look. "Do you have an appointment, Mr. ahhh?"

"Black, Sirius Black. And no, I don't."

"Then I'm afraid the Minister is unavailable at this time, Mr. Black." Deirdre Kathleen Finnigan had been facing down wizards since she'd taken the post as Minister Shacklebolt's personal assistant. Sirius Black, no matter how handsome or charming, wasn't going to get past her.

Sirius set his jaw and tried for polite one last time. "Ms. Finnigan, this is an _emergency_. If you could please tell him I'm here, and that it's regarding my wife and child, then I'm quite sure he'll be willing to make time for me."

"Sir, the Minister is very busy - "

"Yes, I'm aware of how busy Kingsley is. However, this is a matter of some urgency." Sirius was starting to feel the reins of his temper slip.

"Surely you must understand - "

" _No_." Sirius planted his palms on the desk in front of her. " _You_ must understand. This matter is of utmost importance regarding Hermione Granger, _my_ –" he cut himself off. Visibly gathering his temper, he continued. "It also involves Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. So I suggest you interrupt the Minister immediately!" Despite his best efforts, Sirius leaned forward with each word he spoke, towering over the witch at the desk.

"Mr. Black." Kate's voice was frigid. "Don't try to intimidate me. Far more powerful wizards than you have tried and failed." Her green eyes flashed in fury as they met his gray ones. "Now, _back off_."

"Sirius." The deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt interrupted the stand-off at the desk. "Stop browbeating my assistant." Sirius straightened at the reprimand and took a step back. "I can see you're upset; how can I be of assistance?"

"Kingsley." Sirius extended his hand to shake Kingsley's in greeting. "I have a pressing situation, and I believe you need to know."

"Ah. I've just gotten the bare bones from Albus. Please come in." He looked at Kate. "Please hold my owls and visitors. I'm afraid Sirius is correct; this is a matter of some urgency."

"Of course, Minister." Kate narrowed her eyes at Sirius. _That man is insufferable._

The door to Kingsley's private office shut with a quiet thunk behind the two wizards. The Minister led Sirius to a comfortable seating area by his personal Floo connection and looked at Sirius expectantly.

"Hermione Granger is my daughter, and I wish to acknowledge her as such. Immediately." After thirteen years of wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban, Sirius had lost whatever soft touch he'd ever had dealing with authority figures.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter until Albus's portrait informed me." Kingsley gestured to a new empty frame on the wall.

"I married immediately out of school. Mary was murdered by Death Eaters the same day Voldemort killed the Potters and vanished. I believed until this morning that my daughter, Catriona, had perished with her mother. I'd just received word from Albus that they were dead, which was why I was in Godric's Hollow that night - I was going for comfort from my best friends and then - " Sirius tightened his jaw and continued, "Peter should be glad he's dead or I'd kill him." He swallowed down his hate for the traitor Wormtail. "You know the rest of the story and how I ended up in Azkaban."

"What can the Ministry do for you, Sirius?"

"I want Hermione recorded as my daughter and given the full protection of the House of Black. Her name should be recorded as Hermione Pleiades Black."

Kingsley leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "She's of age, Sirius. Shouldn't you ask her if she wants that change?"

"She's my daughter." The pain in Sirius's voice cut Kingsley like a knife. "And as you well know, heads of Pureblood families have a great deal of control over blood, regardless of age."

"I'll have her listed as a daughter of the House of Black, but I won't change her name. I won't take that choice from her. As an adult, she should do that. Unless it's already been done." The Minister's voice trailed off as he thought about the situation.

"The tapestry at the Black home records her as Hermione Pleiades Black," Sirius offered. _Dammitall, she's my daughter; she needs my name. But I shouldn't take that decision from her. Kingsley's got a point._

"In that case, sentient magic being what it is, you may not have to do anything at all." Kingsley rose and called the Unspeakables on the Floo. After only a few minutes, he had his answer. "According to the Unspeakables, Hermione has now been listed as a daughter of the House of Black and the recording quill has struck out both Catriona Pleiades Black and Hermione Jean Granger, replacing it with Hermione Pleiades Black. It looks like Catriona was removed years ago, and then Hermione Jean Granger was removed today: this morning, actually."

"That seems too easy."

"Sirius, sometimes magic cuts through red tape with extreme efficiency." Kingsley paused. "Of course, when it does something of this nature, the ones most impacted are caught off-guard. Perhaps you should warn her."

Sirius's eyes widened at the thought of Hermione seeing her name changed on literally everything connected to magic without warning. "Shit. I need to get back to Hogwarts."

"Use my Floo."

* * *

 _Minutes Later_

 _Hogwarts_

Sirius startled Minerva McGonagall when his face appeared in her Floo and requested entry.

"Come through, Mr. Black." McGonagall gave him an arch look when he arrived.

"Am I to take it this has something to do with Miss Granger?"

Sirius, looking as haggard for his years, nodded. "I went to see Kingsley because I wanted to make sure Hermione was acknowledged as a member of the House of Black." He rubbed his eyes and continued, "This morning, when Harry and Draco finally broke the disguise on Hermione, the recording quill scratched out Hermione Jean Granger and replaced her name with Hermione Pleiades Black." He paused to see McGonagall's reaction.

"Oh dear." The Headmistress immediately grasped the ramifications of his statement and made her way over to the enrollment book for Hogwarts, flipping to Hermione's first year. Her suspicions confirmed, she turned and headed for the door. "Are you coming, Mr. Black? Or perhaps you'd like to wait here while your daughter gets the news."

Sirius matched her stride as they made their way to the eighth tower, pausing before the portrait that opened immediately at McGonagall's "Wronski Feint."

She led the way across the empty common room and stopped in front of the door for number four. Sirius reached out to knock, but stopped when he saw the brass nameplate on the door, flanked by lions. It read: H. Black. He traced the name gently with his forefinger. "By the Founders, I still can't believe she's alive," he whispered.

Before he could knock, Harry opened the door, taking in the two. "Headmistress, Sirius." He nodded at each of them in turn. "Can I help you?"

"Mr. Potter, I understand that you are very good friends with Miss Gran - Black, but really, you should not be in her room." McGonagall immediately slipped into Headmistress mode. "And we need to see her, immediately."

"Professor, Hermione and I shared a tent for an entire winter; I think we can be trusted to spend a few minutes in the middle of the day in her room." Harry's comment was dangerously close to insolent, but he was getting quite tired of everything: the incessant curiosity, the newspapers, the implications that his very presence somehow sullied Hermione - all of it. But he was the most tired of the fact that Death Eaters were still impacting their lives after Voldemort's unequivocal defeat last May.

Sirius's brow darkened as he started thinking about Hermione and Harry sharing a tent, unchaperoned, for months on end. "Harry, we need to see her."

"Sirius, with all due respect, she's had a very bad day - " Harry began.

"Harry, stop; I'll see them." Hermione appeared at his side, wiping the tears from her face. "Professor, Sirius. Can I help you?"

Sirius took in the face of his daughter. Now that her hair had darkened and smoothed out, he could see more of his wife in her and wondered how he'd missed the connection all these years. And her eyes…her eyes were pure Black. "Hermione, I visited the Ministry for Magic after I left here."

Hermione quirked her eyebrow, silently daring him to have done anything regarding her without her prior consent.

"I wanted to make sure you were protected..." Sirius's voice trailed off as Hermione's expression went from challenging to downright thunderous.

"Honestly, Sirius, do you really think I need protection?" Her voice rose as she continued. "I'm at Hogwarts! And I can take care of myself!"

McGonagall and Harry watched the exchange between to the two much like a Muggle tennis match, their heads moving back and forth.

Sirius held out a beseeching hand. "It wasn't like that, Hermione. I just wanted –"

"What, Sirius? To make sure I'm listed as your daughter in the Department of Mysteries? Because that would ensure I'm definitely a Black, now, wouldn't it!"

McGonagall and Harry looked to Sirius.

"Yes, but…."

"Really, Sirius? Why is it you suddenly need to take care of me? You weren't there for eighteen years! I'm fine!"

"Hermione, please stop." Sirius's voice was a combination of command and entreaty. "You need to know something."

"What?" she crossed her arms on her chest and tapped her foot impatiently.

"Your name - it's Hermione Pleiades Black." Her eyes widened and her jaw clenched in fury. "I didn't do it. I _couldn't_ do it. I wanted to, but I didn't take that choice from you. But the recording quill, it records every magical birth, and it recorded yours on Jan 1, 1980 as Catriona Pleiades Black, lined out on Halloween 1981 and replaced with Hermione Jean Granger. And this morning –"

She held up her hand. "Don't say it."

Sirius plowed forward. "This morning, it lined through Hermione Jean Granger and replaced it with Hermione Pleiades Black."

"No! I'm Hermione _Granger_! That's my name - it's who I'll always be."

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Sirius shook his head. "Your name was magically altered on all magical documents as of this morning. When Harry and Draco broke the glamour, they broke all the enchantments surrounding your identity: it's done."

"No - I don't believe you!" Hermione turned to McGonagall. "Tell me he's lying!" she pleaded. Tears started to roll down her face again, and she furiously wiped them away.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger." McGonagall looked at her star pupil with kind eyes. "I checked our enrollment book; I can assure you it's true."

Hermione shook her head, and her arms fell so that they were crossed at her waist defensively. "I can't do this right now." Her breath sharpened and she turned to Harry wide-eyed. "I can't do this right now."

Sirius stepped forward, "Please, Hermione, let me help."

"No, I can't." Hermione folded into herself. "Harry…."

"Okay. Okay." Harry, unmindful of their audience, gathered her in his arms. "We'll go someplace else." He kept her sheltered under his arm as they made their way past the Headmistress and Sirius. He nodded politely to them both. "Is that all?" At their nods, he continued, "She needs some air; we can talk about this later."

McGonagall and Sirius watched as the pair crossed to the main door.

"Will she be alright?" he asked.

"Your daughter is the brightest witch of her age and easily one of the most talented, Sirius." McGonagall's frosty tone softened. "She's stronger than you know; she'll be fine, especially with Mr. Potter at her side."

Sirius ground his teeth, "I'm her father, Minerva, and I'm not going to be replaced by anyone - not Harry, not the Grangers, not _anyone_."

"I think you should reconcile yourself to the fact that your daughter is going to marry that young man. I've known them both longer than you have, and those two have been inevitable since they fought off a fully grown mountain troll as first years." She moved for the door, leaving a stockstill Sirius in her wake. "Well, don't just stand there like a gargoyle - come _on!_ "

* * *

A/N: Okay - so graduate school is killing me. I will get another chapter up as soon as I can! Thanks for your kind words. I can't tell you how much they mean to me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Beta Love:** The one and only glittergrrrl05

Disclaimer: HP and the HP universe belong to JK Rowlings and her assigns. I am not one of them. I make no money from this story.

* * *

 **Ch. 9**

 _Thursday Night_

 _Grimmauld Place_

Sirius stared into the fire morosely, sipping from his glass of fire whiskey as images of Hermione and Harry played on a loop in front of his eyes. Sirius remembered them as small children, happiest when they were together; his lips quirked up at the ends as he recalled some of the trouble they got into together even as crawlers.

" _I think they'll get married some day, Lily." Mary laughed as she recused Sirius's Animagus form from being used as a pony once again._

" _You might be right." Lily picked up Harry. "And they'll be the cutest couple at Hogwarts Graduation Ball their seventh year. I bet they'll be voted King and Queen."_

 _Sirius transformed into his human form, and he and James shook their heads. "It's a little early to be making those sorts of predictions, isn't it?"_

Sirius's mouth flattened when he remembered what he and James did next. In the quiet of his home he could see where they were good together, but today, when he'd seen Harry's arm around his daughter, he'd had to restrain himself from physically removing the contact. But one thing was for certain: Hermione would need to be shielded from the press even more so than before.

He continued to sort through the day and remembered the witch guarding Kingsley's office. She was feisty and just his type; if he didn't have so much on his plate, he'd take her on a date. And when he drifted off to sleep in his chair as he often did when troubled, he dreamed of smooth, creamy skin sliding over his body and long, slow, deep, wet kisses that went on forever. The unknown witch licked her way down his torso ghosting wet caresses over his cock. He returned the gesture, pulling a hard nipple into his mouth, then kissing his way down to the most intimate part of her. In his sleeping fantasy, he looked up and met a pair of Irish green eyes. And startled awake.

Across town, the vibrant green eyes met steel gray and a witch jolted awake.

* * *

 _Friday Morning_

 _Ministry for Magic_

Sirius straightened his tie as the elevator arrived at Kingsley's floor. The doors opened and he made his way into the outer sanctum of the Minister's office. Seated at her desk was Deirdre Kathleen Finnigan, the witch from his dream.

Sirius stopped a respectful distance from her desk and cleared his throat. "Good morning, Ms. Finnigan." He searched her eyes for some sign that she'd shared his dream the night before, but she masked her emotions well. "First of all, I'd like to apologize for being so rude yesterday. I was, umm, somewhat disturbed by events, but that's no excuse for my execrable treatment of you."

Her eyebrows flew upward. _He wasn't that bad._ "That's fine, Mr. Black. I've endured much worse, I assure you. Now, how can I help you today? I'm afraid the Minister is unavailable at the moment."

"Worse? Someone's treated worse than I did? Please give me their names, Ms. Finnigan. I'll ensure it never happens again."

"That's quite alright, Mr. Black; I can take care of myself. But, again, how can I help you today?" Kate repressed a smile at his cheek.

"I need to make an appointment to see Kingsley as soon as possible. Can you help me with that?"

Kate narrowed her eyes. "Of course I can, but you could've owled for that, Mr. Black."

"Call me Sirius."

Kate considered her next words. _Merlin, he was handsome with that twinkle in his gray eyes. Even the lines carved into his face added to his appeal._ She relented. "Fine, Sirius. The Minister has an appointment available on Monday at one."

"That's unfortunate. I'd hoped for something sooner." He paused. "The situation I'm hoping to contain is extremely time-sensitive."

"I'm sorry, but that's his only available appointment for several days."

Just then, Kingsley opened his office door, attention on the papers in his hand. "Kate, could you get me the Dolohov file?" He stopped abruptly when he realized she wasn't alone. "Sirius. Everything alright?"

"Well, I was wondering if I could run a few things by you regarding Hermione, but Ms. Finnigan assures me you have no appointments available until Monday."

"Well, Kate would know. But I do have a few minutes left before my lunch is over, so come on in. Maybe we can get it knocked out before my afternoon appointments. Kate, could you bring that file to me as soon as it's available?"

"Of course, Minister."

Sirius quickly followed Kingsley into his office, leaving the door open in his wake. "I'll be blunt. I think we need to get out ahead of this; Hermione's transformation won't stay secret for long."

"I agree, but why do you need me?" Kingsley sank into his desk chair, motioning Sirius to the take the one across from him.

"She's a member of the Order of the Phoenix, one third of the Golden Trio, and now a Black. I think it'd be _more_ strange for the Ministry to ignore this situation," Sirius returned.

Kingsley considered him over his steepled fingers. He dropped his hands to this desktop. "You're right, of course. What do you propose?"

"Minister." Kate's voice interrupted their conversation. "The file." She placed it on his desk and turned to leave, but stopped. "If I may, I suggest you call a press conference and get the speculation over and done, if Hermione is who I think she is. And Minister, you only have ten minutes before your first appointment this afternoon."

"Thank you, Kate; we'll take that under advisement." Kingsley nodded as she resumed her path to her desk.

"I agree with her, but the only problem is Hermione. She has a particular – aversion – to the press after the debacle in her fourth year with that Rita Skeeter creature," Sirius said after Kate had left the room.

"Why don't you take the weekend to talk to her? And we'll set up the conference for Monday at one o'clock, here at the Ministry." Kingsley paused to pull the Dolohov file over. "If she won't do it, then we'll cancel it."

"I'll get in touch with her when I get home." The wizards stood and shook hands, and Sirius headed for the door, stopping beside Kate's desk. "I was wondering, Miss Finnigan, are you free for dinner on Sunday evening?"

And for the first time, Sirius managed to truly discomfit Kate Finnigan. "Well, Mr. Black, I'm afraid-"

"You're not married, are you?"

"No, but-"

"Excellent. I'll owl you for directions to your house and to set up the time." Sirius winked at her before he strolled to the elevator.

* * *

 _Friday Evening_

 _Room #1, Eighths Tower_

Sirius's face appeared in the two way mirror on the bedside table. "Harry."

The wizard in question had been staring at the ceiling, tossing a captured Snitch into the air, and sorting through the day's irritants. He took a deep breath, grabbed the Snitch and set it aside before picking up the mirror.

"What's up?"

"Harry, can you get Hermione? I need to talk to her."

Harry's lips tightened as he considered his options, but in the end he gave a short nod of his head. "I can try."

* * *

 _Friday Evening_

 _England Quidditch Training Facility_

Ron was sitting at the dinner table with this teammates when Harry's owl dropped down beside him, holding out his leg with a letter attached. He pulled a piece of chicken from his plate and Athena took off after accepting the snack, not waiting for a reply. Ron continued to eat, but tore open the letter eagerly, tuning out discussions of Wronski Feints and the Bulgarians and the Italians.

 _Ron,_

 _I hope you're doing well. Not sure how to say this, so I'm just going to say it. We've had a shock here. Long story short, Hermione is Sirius's daughter. Her hair is really dark brown, and her eyes are gray. And I think I'm in love with her, but that's got nothing to do with her being Sirius's daughter. I hope you can get home soon because I think she could use your help. And I need to know you don't hate me, because you're my best mate._

 _Harry_

Ron choked on the bite of chicken he had just put in his mouth; he felt like he'd taken a Bludger directly to the skull. He re-read the letter just in case he'd misunderstood. _Merlin's saggy y-fronts, what in bloody hell was going on?_

He immediately began making plans to see Harry and Hermione. It was Friday night, and he could get permission to be away until Monday morning practice if he needed it.

"Oi, Weasley, you up for a pint? We're headed down to Ogden's to unwind." Oliver drew his attention.

"Uh. No. Just got this letter from a friend. I, uh, need to see about going up to Hogwarts. Have you seen Coach?" Ron's answer caught the attention of his jocular teammates; they all knew who his friends were and, more to the point, they knew _where_ they were.

"Blimey, Weasley, everything alright?" Lost in thought, Ron didn't even know which of his teammates asked him the question.

"What? Oh, yeah. Well, I – I have something I need to do." He drew out his wand and conjured his Patronus, still the terrier, and sent a message to Harry. "I'll be there in the morning, 10:30; meet me at the Three Broomsticks. Bring Hermione." The silvery Patronus turned and ran off.

The head coach walked into the cafeteria just as the terrier made its way out. "Weasley, was that your Patronus? Don't see any Dementors about."

"Yes, sir, that's mine. I've got a bit of an emergency; can we talk?"

* * *

 _10:30am_

 _Saturday_

 _Three Broomsticks_

Harry walked into the Three Broomsticks, apparently alone, and settled into the back corner booth. From there, he had a full view of the restaurant and a wall to his back for protection. He seated himself at the end of the bench and watched the front door to the currently empty restaurant. Madame Rosmerta's private rooms were already booked for the day, so this was the best they were going to be able to do.

He didn't have long to wait. Ron walked in, shaking off the cold, and spotted Harry in the corner. After the obligatory one-armed hug, they settled themselves down for brunch and a chat. Harry quietly muttered a muffling spell to fend off any would-be eavesdroppers.

"Oi there, 'Mione, how're you doing?" Ron glanced at the space beside Harry. "I think you can come out."

Slowly, reluctantly, the invisibility cloak moved up. Hermione braced for his reaction to her changed looks. Ron, for once, seemed to know the right response.

"There you are; I've missed you." He held out his hands for her to grasp. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, Ronald, it's hard." She blinked back tears. "But thank you for not freaking out." She shook her head at the memory of returning to the Eighth Tower after her transformation. "Pansy shrieked when she saw me. _Shrieked_. It was mortifying."

"Don't worry about that bint; she's a few bricks shy of a full load."

A strangled laugh escaped Hermione at Ron's description of Pansy. "She can be dense, can't she?"

He grinned at his ability to make his best girl friend laugh. "So, how can I help?"

Hermione shook her head regretfully. "I don't know, Ronald. Just be my friend. Don't desert me." She couldn't disguise the plea in her voice.

A flash of pain replaced the smile on Ron's face. "Never again, Hermione, never again." He looked at Harry. "Tell me what happened."

It took over an hour to fill Ron in on the particulars of the situation. He also got caught up on the newspaper situation. "Marietta Edgecombe, huh? She always was a sneaky bitch."

"Padma swears she hasn't told her anything else," Hermione said, shrugging.

"Malfoy helped," Harry added.

"Malfoy? Ferret face?" Ron was incredulous. "That tosser _help_ _ed_? Are you sure it wasn't him?"

"Yes, Ronald, we're sure. He's changed," Hermione reassured him. .

He looked to Harry for confirmation.

"It's true. He's still a right prick at times, but nothing like before." Harry responded with only half of his attention. There was a familiar-looking wizard making his way into the restaurant, which was only half full as the lunch hour approached. "Look at that wizard with the brown cloak. I'm pretty sure he was here when we met with Sirius and your mum, Ron. I wonder - think he's with the _Daily Prophet_?"

Ron reached into his pocket for his wand. "What's the plan?"

"I think I'm just going to introduce myself." Harry abruptly stood up and walked directly to the wizard who, with no ready retreat after making himself at home at the counter, looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a Muggle car.

"Oi there." Harry stuck out his hand. "Harry Potter. And you are?"

"Uh, Harold. Harold Wannamaker."

"Nice to meet you Harold. What do you do for a living?" Harry had yet to release Harold's hand from a very firm grip.

"Err, uhh…" Harold tried to no avail to let go. "I'm, uhh, a photographer."

"Ah, yes, I thought so. You do realize that I'm still a student and so are most of my friends?" Harry paused for effect. "It'd be a shame for such a hard-working man as yourself to be sued for selling photos of students after the Headmistress asked for the press to respect our privacy."

"Uh, yes, yes it would."

"Excellent, then I trust we'll see no more of you, Harold? Because I'd hate to contact my godfather Sirius Black and the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, about students being harassed."

Harold's eyes widened at the threat. "Yes, Mr. Potter. You're right."

"I wish I could say it was nice meeting you, Mr. Wannamaker. But you have a good day."

The photographer fled as soon as Harry released his hand. With a smirk that would do Malfoy proud, he re-joined his friends at their table. They were snickering at the plight of the fleeing wizard.

"What did you say, Harry? He left in quite a hurry." Hermione had never seen him dispatch someone with that kind of efficiency.

"I'm tired of us - no, check that; I'm tired _you_ being harassed, Hermione. I can just see some crazy headline about the three of us, and I'm not going to sit still for it."

"I think my transformation will be in the papers soon enough, anyway." She swallowed hard. "Maybe we should just do what Sirius and Kingsley suggested and call a press conference and get it over with."

Harry hooked his arm around her shoulders. "If you want but _only_ if you want . And we'll be here for you, Hermione." She leaned into this warmth, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath of his comforting scent; it was always the same underlying smell, like leather, grass, sunshine, and broom polish. Without conscious thought, Harry turned his head and kissed the top of her head before turning and meeting Ron's gaze, who simply nodded in understanding. "We'll send an owl to Sirius and Kingsley when we get back to school."

Ron cleared his throat. "Right then, are we good? Do you want me to stay around?"

Hermione straightened and looked at him. "No, no. I'll be alright." She reached out her hand to squeeze one of his. "You'll come visit when you can? And write?"

He released her hand and stood to go. Harry and Hermione followed suit. "'Course I will, 'Mione. I love you." He hauled her into a bear hug and met Harry's gaze over her head. "Harry, you want to walk out with me?" Harry nodded his assent as Ron pressed a kiss to Hermione's forehead.

Harry didn't want to leave Hermione alone, but Draco and Daphne had just walked in. Aside from Neville, those two would be the best to keep her company while he was outside. He caught Draco's eye and waved him over. Draco turned to the blonde at his side, and they changed course to meet at the Trio's table.

"Malfoy, Daphne." Harry greeted the Slytherins. "You remember Ron."

The enmity between Draco and Ron hadn't faded with time.

"Weasel," Draco nodded to Ron.

"Ferret," Ron replied.

The two witches rolled their eyes at the childish display. Daphne decided to take the high road and attempt to diffuse the situation.

"Hello, Ron; it's nice to see you again. I didn't realize you were in town. Will you be staying long?"

Ron dragged his eyes from the staring contest with Draco. "Uh, no. Just needed to catch up with Harry and 'Mione. It's good to see you too, Daphne. You're looking lovely, as always." His compliment was rewarded with a genuine smile from the beautiful witch.

"Listen, Ron, I'll walk out with you." Harry continued his patently transparent attempt to prevent Hermione being left alone. He turned to their classmates. "Why don't you three take a pew? I'll be back in just a minute."

Draco and Daphne settled themselves in Ron's recently vacated bench while Hermione, glaring at the retreating backs of her closest friends, made herself comfortable across the table.

"What's he on about?" Daphne mused.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "It's like he thinks I'm made of glass. It's insane. My looks have changed, not who I am. And it's not like I can't take care of myself."

Malfoy dared to go where angels feared to tread. "Granger, no it's _Black_ now, isn't it? Not to put too fine a point on it, but who you are _has_ changed."

"It has _not._ I'm still Hermione Jean…" Her voice trailed off. Gamely, she tried again. "My name has changed, yes. But I can still take care of myself."

"We know you can, Hermione." Daphne tried to comfort her. "But things are going to be different now. Like it or not, you're going to be even more famous."

"Don't remind me." She resisted the urge to bang her head against the table top.

Outside, Ron and Harry both faced the street, watching for any sign of an attack by Dark Wizards or paparazzi.

"When did you know?" Ron asked.

"That I'm in love with her?"

"Yeah."

Harry cleared his throat, sounding a bit nervous. "Honestly?" At Ron's nod, he continued. "I've always loved her. I knew I was _in love_ with her after you left us in the woods."

"Did anything . . .?" Ron didn't even finish the thought before Harry shook his head.

"We kissed. Once. And then you came back. And then you two were dating, and I was seeing Ginny. The timing was never right. And now this." He took his eyes off the street and met Ron's gaze. "I'm tired of pretending we're just friends. I don't know if she feels the same, but I have to tell her, somehow. I just need to work out the right time. And I don't want to lose you as a friend over this."

"It's okay, mate; you won't. But she's going to need you. I don't know if you two realize the shit storm of publicity about to come your way. Take care of her."

"Will do." They shared another back-pounding male hug, and Ron disapparated, leaving Harry to return to Hermione.

When he arrived at the table, Draco looked up in relief, an expression Harry never thought to see on his roommate's face in conjunction with his arrival.

"Potter, they've been talking about Masque costumes and Yule Ball gowns. You owe me."

Harry smirked as he settled in beside Hermione, putting his arm on the back of the bench, sheltering her. "Would you rather talk about how Gryffindor is going to hand Slytherin its ass in our Quidditch match?"

Draco sneered. "You wish, Potter."

Harry grinned, minor insults exchanged. "Have you seen the new Firebolt?"

* * *

 _That Afternoon_

 _Eighth Year Tower_

Hermione curled into her favorite oversized chair in the common room, reading the latest copy of _Charms and Transfiguration Monthly_. Harry, coming in from Quidditch practice, broom in hand and still wearing his practice uniform, spotted her and strode over, propping his broom against the chair before he plopped down on the large ottoman at her feet.

"Hey, there. What're you reading?"

"Oh, _Charms and Transfiguration Monthly_. I picked it up today when we were in Hogsmeade for a bit of light reading."

Harry shook his head, grinning. "A bit of light reading, huh?"

"Honestly. Yes, Harry. _Light reading_." Hermione snapped back at him before her tone softened. "How was practice?"

He shrugged. "It was practice. We're going to miss Ron. Ginny's great, as always." He paused. "You're not going to believe who our best Beater is, though." She raised her eyebrows in encouragement. "Dennis Creevy."

Hermione's mouth opened just a little bit in surprise. "You're taking the mickey."

"No, I'm not. He's not a big guy, but he's _fast_ and he's got a mean swing. The Slyths aren't going to know what hit them."

Hermione remembered Colin, Dennis's older brother who'd died in the Battle of Hogwarts. He'd always followed them around with a camera, and one of her favorite pictures of the three of them had been taken by Colin in the Great Hall during fourth year. It had gone with on the run last year and was now on her bedside table.

"It's a shame Colin isn't here to see this. He'd have loved to photograph his brother playing Quidditch for Gryffindor."

He looked thoughtful. "You're right; we'll win this one for Colin." He got up to head to the shower but gathered her in his arms for a quick hug.

"Uh, what?"

"I can't give my best friend a hug when it looks like she needs it?"

"Aww, thank you; that's so sweet." She rested her head in the crook of his neck, breathed in, and promptly gagged. "Merlin, Harry, you stink! Go take a shower!"

"What? I'm trying to be nice! Just for that –" He dragged her up and wrapped her in a full body hug.

"Argh, no! Put me down! You smell like a troll!" Hermione struggled to get free, giggling the whole time.

"Not until you say you're sorry." He kept her almost immobile, laughing at her plight.

Neville picked that moment to enter. The sight of Hermione wrapped in Harry's arms, giggling, was a sight to behold.

She spotted him over Harry's shoulder. "Neville, help me! He won't put me down! And he smells like a barn!"

Harry turned around, still holding her captive in his arms, feet dangling, unable to touch the floor.

"Neville, back me up. Do you hear what she's saying? I, the Chosen One, smell like a barn? And earlier, she said a troll. A price must be paid."

"Oh, I agree, Harry. But you need to put her down."

"Why?"

"So you can tickle her." Neville walked away, laughing at Hermione's shrieks of indignation.

"Neville, you traitor! No, stop it! Not the side! ARGHH! Harry! James…argh…stop it…Potter. I'm going to turn you into a slug!"

 _Sunday Morning_

 _Across Wizarding Britain_

 _Mystery at Hogwarts_

 _Sources tell us that there is a mystery afoot at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and it has to do with Hermione Granger. In Advanced Charms, her long-time friend Harry Potter and rival (perhaps for her affections?) Draco Malfoy apparently broke a charm on her person. Our source claims that she now has darker hair and gray eyes. The only picture we have been able to obtain is of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley (Reserve Keeper for England) and a heretofore unknown witch that we cannot confirm as Hermione Granger. However, we have received word that the Ministry will be holding a press conference on Monday afternoon. We will bring full coverage to our subscribers._

Sirius stared at the grainy picture of Hermione, Ron, and Harry taken through the window of the Three Broomsticks. "Godric damn it." He crumpled the newspaper and threw it into the fireplace. _This might be worse than I thought._

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, folks! As usual, Ch. 10 is going up on Bewitching Fiction within the next 24 hours. I hope you enjoyed this update! Please let me know if you did._


	10. Chapter 10

**Beta friend:** glittergrrrl05. She's the best!

Disclaimer: As per usual, I do not own HP or anything related to HP. This flight of fancy is being undertaken for no monetary recompense.

* * *

 **Ch. 10**

 _1:30pm, Sunday_

 _Eighth Tower, Room #4_

Harry and Ginny sat on Hermione's bed, watching their friend pace. Daphne, who'd just left the room, had quietly speculated that Hermione's sudden burst of energy might be related to the fact that her sleep had been devoid of her customary nightmares. She'd been restless, but hadn't woken up screaming for the past few nights. Since her glamour had been broken, in fact. Now, her two closest friends at school watched her progress back and forth across the room as they would a Quaffle being passed in a fast-paced Quidditch match.

"I don't know if I can do this." Hermione reached the wall and whipped around to

head in the other direction. "There's nothing I can research to make sense of this. Honestly, if it weren't happening to me, I'd say it was a crazy story made up by some mad reporter type! This is _Rita Skeeter_ bizarre." She stopped at the opposite wall and turned around to make her way back down the room, ranting the entire time.

She continued pacing, venting her spleen until she wound down. For both Harry and Ginny, but especially Harry, her silence was more foreboding than her protestations. His feeling of trepidation trebled when she did deign to speak again.

"I may leave. "

"What?"

"No! You can't –"

Hermione cut short their protests with an imperious wave of her hand. "Stop. This is a decision I have to make on my own. But we can do the press conference. It'll be better to rip the sticking plaster off in one go."

Harry hesitated. "You won't say anything about leaving, though?"

"Honestly, Harry, do you think I'm stupid? Of course I'm not going to say anything to the press about it."

"Ah, Hermione, what exactly do you mean, 'you may leave'?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

Hermione's rigid spine seemed to melt at Ginny's question, and she settled herself between Harry and Ginny on the bed. "I just want it all over. The war, the dreams, the press. And now this." Harry put his arm around her and tugged her into the shelter of his body as Ginny took Hermione's hand and held it tightly.

"We'll be here for you, Hermione." He leaned his head against hers. "But you can't give up. You faced down trolls and giant snakes; this'll be over before you know it."

They sat that way for some time in silence, and Ginny only left when she got an urgent message about a fight in the seventh floor corridor, promising to return if she was needed.

After getting up to see Ginny out, Hermione turned to Harry, still seated on her bed. "I need to revise, Harry. Do you need some help? We've got that twenty-four inch parchment due for Bill next week."

His eyebrows shot up. "Defense? I think I've got that one, Hermione. Now if you wanted to help with Slughorn's assignment, then we can talk." They both smiled briefly as they thought back to their sixth year. "But you want time alone, don't you?"

She nodded briefly. "I really do; don't be angry."

"I could never be angry at you for this, Hermione." Harry got up to leave, but stopped in the doorway, looking out. "But you should know, I'm not going to let you leave our world without a fight." He turned around to face her. "And if you leave anyway, I'll follow you."

He wouldn't have a choice because his life wasn't worth living without her in it.

* * *

 _6:30pm, Sunday_

 _Deirdre Kathleen Finnigan's Apartment_

 _Notting Hill_

Sirius knocked on the door of the apartment above an eclectic art studio on a mixed Muggle-wizarding street. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this date was _important_. He smoothed imaginary wrinkles from his jacket and straightened his button-up shirt as he waited for Deirdre Kathleen to open the door. And when she did, he couldn't help but grin. The feisty witch was dressed in ripped Muggle jeans and a t-shirt emblazoned with a wide-open mouth with the tongue hanging out.

Holding the door open, she cocked her brow at his decidedly dressier ensemble. "I had no idea I needed to dress up, Sirius. Maybe you should have told me where we were going."

Sirius grinned wickedly; she wanted to teach him a lesson. _I like you, Deirdre Kathleen. You'll do._ He looked her up and down, lingering in all the expected places. "Tell you what, why don't you pick? My treat, obviously."

"Really? You'll let me pick?" Skepticism rang in Kate's voice.

"Absolutely."

"I'll get my jacket." She disappeared momentarily, allowing Sirius a brief glimpse into her brightly colored, cozy studio apartment, flooded with light from the windows overlooking the street. When she returned with her unstructured blazer in hand, he helped her shrug it on and offered her his arm.

"Where to, Deirdre Kathleen?"

"You could call me Kate, you know. Everyone else does."

"Now why would I do that?"

Their good-natured banter continued as they made their way to a popular Muggle café down the street. Sirius hadn't had such a good time with a witch in years.

* * *

 _12:30pm, Monday_

 _Ministry for Magic, London_

"I can't believe Sirius thought I'd just sit at Hogwarts while you face the press," Harry said.

Hermione smoothed the front of her blue tweed business suit. "He has a point though, doesn't he? The reporters are going to go nuts, saying that we're engaged or some such rubbish."

"Yeah. That's true. But what would they say if neither Ron nor I was here? That obviously there was trouble and that we didn't trust you or something. They're always looking for ratings. So, screw'em. I'll stand by you and then we'll head back to Hogwarts."

Just then, a familiar red-head bustled in with her youngest son in tow. "Hermione Jean Granger! It's a fine thing when I have to get the news second-hand. Ronald sent a letter to me with Pigwidgeon, but that blasted bird took forever to get to me." Molly Weasley, covered in flour, gathered her two adopted chicks in her arms for a hug sending up poofs of white powder and then stood back to examine them. "Now let me look at you. Well, Hermione dear, you'll do, even if you are a bit too thin. You too, Harry. Oh, oh what is that? Oh bother." Molly swished her wand and dispensed with the white streaks on Harry and Hermione's formerly pristine clothes. "Now, I'll leave you with Ron, and sit in the audience. Don't worry, I'll keep that horrid Skeeter in line."

The Trio watched as Molly charged out the door, a cloud of flour wafting in her wake. Ron turned to Hermione, wrapping her in a brief hug, and shook Harry's hand. "I got to thinking after our talk on Saturday, and I hope you don't mind, but I talked to the coach, told him what was going on and he gave me a pass. I've got to head back as soon as it's over. But I thought if I was here, it might cut down on the rubbish in the paper, yeah?"

Hermione smiled softly to his earnest expression. "Thank you, Ron."

He looked down at his clothes. "But don't let anyone cast a _Finite_ at me. I had to transfigure my Quidditch robes to this. Didn't think that leathers would be a good look for a press conference."

"We've got you covered, mate." Harry clapped him on the back. "Glad you came. Sirius was giving us major shit about this. He's making it sound like me appearing with Hermione is a some sort of major announcement."

Ron looked a bit pained and cleared his throat. "Well, you know, he's not – wrong."

"Really, Ron? You too? Honestly, you know better." Hermione gaped at him.

"No, it's not that. I just got to thinking. You two, you weren't raised in the Wizarding World. I mean, you live here now, and –" he stopped at the look on her face. "What's that now? What's that look?"

Tight-lipped, Hermione shook her head and refused to answer.

"Oi, there, 'Mione. You better not be thinking about moving back to the Muggle world." Harry raised his eyebrows in confirmation at Ron's almost question. "You are; you're thinking about it."

This time, she gave a short nod.

"Please don't do that. You belong here; you belong with us. We'd…." Ron's voice trailed off. "We love you. Just…just try to stay, right?"

"Regardless, Ronald, what were you saying?" Hermione used her best swotty tone to get him back on topic.

"Blimey, Hermione. You've thrown me off." Ron shook his head shaking off the thought of her moving away like hound might shake off a pesky fly. "Right. Think about it – if just you two are up there with Sirius, then the press will look and see a picture perfect couple. Plus, Sirius is your godfather, Harry. He's your father. Of course they'll think he's promoting you two as a couple. If your best friend was a girl, it wouldn't be the same, and it'd probably be okay even with just Harry except all the 'Golden Trio' shite. And the articles in the paper from beginning of term, yeah?"

"Bloody hell." Harry hated to concede the point, but if Ron said it, then it probably wasn't just a generational thing that Sirius was exaggerating from some new-found well of parental responsibility.

"This is so _unfair_." Hermione sighed. "And now I'm whinging. Godric, this is ridiculous. Is it one o'clock yet?"

Sirius stepped into the room, providing an answer to her question, and took in the trio. "Ron – glad you could make it." He offered his hand to Ron. "It will make this all much easier. Now, as we were discussing earlier, I'll talk first. I have the prepared statement," he held up the parchment that they'd hashed out at Grimmauld Place. "Everyone ready?"

They all nodded and followed him out the door to the podium, Sirius in the lead, followed by Harry, Hermione, and Ron. They stood behind him slightly to the side, Hermione in the middle. The flashes from cameras almost blinded them, as the reporters caught sight of Hermione for the first time since her transformation.

Sirius cleared his throat to get their attention. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending this afternoon. I have a prepared statement from which I'll read, and afterward, we'll take a few questions. At your request, you will be provided with the text of the statement following this afternoon's conference:

 _The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black is pleased to announce the addition of a daughter to our House. Recently, my daughter, long believed murdered by Death Eaters in the fall of 1981, has been discovered alive. Unfortunately, my wife, Mary MacDonald Black, did not survive the attack. No one alive was aware of the continued existence of Catriona Pleiades Black until the magical glamours concealing her identity broke in a recent school exercise. Today, I am pleased to introduce my daughter you, Hermione Pleiades Black. After our conference today, we ask for space as we adjust to our new situation in this private, family matter._

Sirius stood slightly to the side to allow Hermione to step forward, and the cameras flashed madly again.

"Miss Granger! Miss Granger! How do you feel?"

Before Hermione could respond, Sirius's eyes narrowed dangerously and he interrupted. "She's Miss Black now."

The chastened reporter backpedaled. "Yes, of course. I didn't realize that she'd actually changed her name."

"The magic governing and surrounding her acted in this case, changing her name within the Hall of Mysteries."

A tentative hand went up in the middle, and Sirius pointed to the reporter. "So, Mr. Black, are you absolutely certain Miss Granger is in fact your daughter?"

Sirius sighed. "I must have been unclear. Miss _Black_ , formerly Miss Granger, is my daughter. I'm not sure how much more clearly I can say that."

"How do we know that you are not falsifying this report simply to remove the taint of being Muggle-born?" That came from the back corner of the room. Sirius's hand flew to his wand pocket, but before he could pull it, Hermione stepped forward and answered.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean by 'taint' of being Muggle-born. If anything, being the child of Muggles makes these witches and wizards even more exceptional and unique. I was quite proud of my Muggle heritage, and indeed, I have found over the years that those who matter had no problem with my parents. Only those who were inured in the past seemed caught up in my blood status. I've never wished to be anyone but who I am."

Silence reigned momentarily as the assemblage digested the setdown Hermione had delivered with such aplomb. However, being reporters, they weren't quiet for long.

"Miss Granger, what, exactly, is the nature of your relationship with your step-brother, Harry Potter?'

Hermione turned to Harry and rolled her eyes before she answered the impudent question. "While I have no idea why this has any bearing on my newly discovered parentage, I'll address your question. Harry has been my friend since first year at Hogwarts. He continues to support me, and he and Ron are here only to support me through this conference. Nothing should be read into their presence beyond that. Harry is _not_ my step-brother or brother, but rather the godson of my biological father. And he is my friend."

"Miss Granger, excuse me, I mean, Miss Black, how will this rise in social status affect you?"

"Oh for Godric's sake. I have no idea, but I don't plan to allow some mythical social status to affect me whatsoever."

"Miss Black - Hermione. May I call you Hermione? - do you feel your marriage prospects have become more suitable to such a promising young witch such as yourself?"

 _For fuck's sake, Ron was right. They're all about the superficial, the social aspect of this._ Aloud, she sighed. "Quite frankly, I haven't given it much thought. Next question."

"Miss Granger, where will you be spending your leisure time, now that you're a member of the landed gentry?"

 _Another one? By the Founders._ "I'm at school, so I'll be continuing my routine, preparing to sit for my N.E.W.T.s. Any other questions?"

"Miss Black, now that you have an income, will you be changing your humble style of dressing?"

Hermione glanced down at her smart suit. "No. Any _pertinent_ questions?"

"Miss Black, you've always had such a heart for the unfortunate. Now that you no longer number amongst them, where do you see your interests turning? OWW!" The reporter reached down and rubbed the side of her leg before looking around suspiciously. She didn't see Molly tuck her wand back into her sleeve.

Another reporter jumped into the momentary lull. "Mr. Black! How do you feel about your daughter having been in such close quarters last year with two wizards, unsupervised?"

Sirius had no compunction about doing what he thought was best, and in this case the truth would serve no good purpose, so he prevaricated. "I'm quite sure that there is no proof any such thing, and as the head of her family, I'm prepared to take any and all steps now to prevent such slurs to my daughter's reputation. "

"But Mr. Black, there have been rumors of a very close relationship between Miss Black and Mr. Potter, even going so far as to say they were unchaperoned for some time last year. Would you care to comment?"

"I'm quite aware that Harry and Hermione are close friends, but I have seen no proof of any such allegations. Furthermore, I'll not countenance such slurs to either of their reputations. I trust I am making myself clear?"

"Mr. Black, is it true you had a secret flirtation with the witch now claiming to be your daughter?"

"That is an utter lie. And I will not deign to further address such nonsense." Sirius's sneer at the reporter was unadulterated pureblood disdain.

"Mr. Black, is Hogwarts' 8th year program an appropriate setting for your daughter?"

"Hogwarts is perfectly safe. Why would I object to my daughter attending school and sitting for her N.E. ?"

"Well, for these students there seems to be a lack of chaperones, supervision, and indeed, protocol. Surely you cannot approve of such lax conditions for your only daughter."

"I assure you, my daughter has a level head on her shoulders. And I find that I'm grateful for school, because the Charms surrounding her were broken there. I likely would have never known that she survived without Hogwarts."

Another reporter spoke up. "Harry - forgive me, but we all feel we know you so _personally_ \- will you comment on the character of the witch now claiming to be the daughter of your father's last living friend?"

Harry's emerald eyes widened at the vicious question. "Hermione is the brightest witch of our age, and I would trust her with the life of every man, woman, and child I know. Even yours."

A small titter sounded, and the next reporter decided to address Ron. "Mr. Weasley, may I say how dashing you look today? What can we expect from your team this year? Any new surprises in the lineup?"

Ron started to step forward when he heard his name, but froze when he heard the seemingly random question. He quickly recovered and flashed his wide grin. "Well, thank you. And the team is gelling really well. We're hoping for a good season. Of course we'd like to make a run at the Cup, that's every team's dream, yeah? But we've got a game against the Cannons in a couple of weeks. We'd love to see you lot there." Before he could retreat, another reporter spoke up.

"Mr. Weasley, how do you feel about Miss Black and Mr. Potter's possible relationship? Didn't you once wish to pursue a relationship with Miss Black?"

"Well, we've all been friends since we were eleven. And if Harry and Hermione decided to make a go of it, I'd support them, of course. But that's not really my business."

"Mr. Weasley, are the rumors true that you disassociated yourself from Miss Granger on grounds that she was unfaithful? With Mr. Potter? Ouch!" This reporter also rubbed her thigh while trying to pinpoint who had sent a nasty Stinging Hex in her direction.

Suppressing a grin, Ron answered, "That's rubbish."

"The cheating with Mr. Potter or the disassociation? Owww! Who is doing that?" She looked about frantically but again failed to notice Molly's surreptitiously tucking her wand away.

"It's all rubbish. I've not disassociated myself from either of my best friends and certainly not for some non-existent cheating."

Rita Skeeter, who had up to that point been stunningly silent, decided to ask her first question. "Harry dear, it's so good to see you. I was wondering – It has been reported that you were discovered in Miss Granger's bedroom, partially unclothed. Do you care to comment on the veracity of those claims?" Before Harry could answer, Rita's lurid magenta scarf moved up to gag her.

The reporters viewed Rita's predicament with a mixture of amusement and fear. Silence reigned for a few moments as Rita struggled to disentangle herself the scarf that wound evermore tightly around her mouth. But another intrepid soul attempted to sow division in the united front the Trio and Sirius presented.

"Mr. Potter, in a time of war, so much can be explained away by stress and battle fatigue. In the afters, such events take on a different connotation. How do you now view the actions of Miss Granger during your nerve-fraught time hiding from the Death Eaters?"

"I view Hermione's actions exactly as I did then. She has always been one of the bravest women I know."

"Mr. Potter, now that Miss Granger lays claim to your god-father's wealth in terms of inheritance, what will you do to support yourself?"

"I'd never planned on inheriting Sirius's wealth, and I can support myself. As to my plans for the future, I'm applying to the Auror academy after N.E.W.T.s in the spring." Harry's brow furrowed briefly. _Did they think I was going to live off Sirius forever?_

Yet another report apparently remembered that the Potters were wealthy in their own right. "Mr. Potter, have you considered a merger of families to keep the wealth centralized?"

 _Bloody hell, they aren't going to let go of it._ "No."

"Mr. Potter, will you comment on the behavior of Miss Granger to date at Hogwarts?"

"You're taking the piss, right? Hermione is an of-age witch and she's acting just as she should! I'm not taking any more questions of that sort. Regardless of her parents, she deserves more respect than that kind of rubbish question. You people ought to be grateful to her, and instead you're like a pack of wolves. She's the reason we were able to defeat Voldemort." Harry turned in disgust and walked away from the podium to stand at the back of the dais, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Sirius moved back to the forefront. "I believe that will about do it for today. Thank you for coming – "

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Mr. Black, but I do have one more question for you. What were the circumstances surrounding the supposed death of your daughter? How could a man of your standing not know the whereabouts of his supposed wife and child?"

Sirius paled. "Mary was my _wife_ ; there's no question of that. Just because our wedding was held in secret in an attempt to protect us in the first war does not make our marriage any less real. We were warned by my brother Regulus, at great risk to his own life, that Voldemort was coming for my family. Mary and I concocted a plan to hide Catriona, whom we now know as Hermione, with her distant relatives. She was returning to me when she was slaughtered by Death Eaters." He stopped, visibly composing himself before he continued. Hermione stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder, offering silent support. "Mary was a brilliant witch, and we believed that Catriona died with her. I am overjoyed that Hermione has been discovered, and I look forward to integrating her into the House of Black. We will have no further comment on this matter. Thank you for coming this afternoon."

He turned and offered Hermione his arm, and Harry and Ron followed him out of the room.

Ron broke the tension. "Well, that went well."

"Your mum was brilliant, mate. Did you see Skeeter's scarf?" Harry snorted.

"Yeah, Mum was right pissed. Pretty sure she sent the Stinging Hexes too."

Molly entered just as Ron was finishing his sentence. "Ronald, I'm quite sure you don't mean to accuse me of assaulting unsuspecting reporters. Now, don't you need to get back to practice?"

* * *

 _Midnight_

 _Eighth Tower_

"Why are you taking this so well, Harry? Doesn't it bother you that suddenly I'm someone else entirely?" Hermione looked to her best friend from her chair by the fire.

Harry, legs stretched across the two-seater, had been waiting for her to say something and looked up from his _Quidditch Quarterly_. "But Hermione, you're not someone else entirely; you're you." He tossed the magazine carelessly on the floor. "You'll always be Hermione to me, no matter who your parents are."

"But I don't even look like myself." She wiped away a tear. "And I don't recognize _myself_. And you heard those reporters – it's like they think I should be some vapid, empty-headed socialite."

"Yes, you do know who you are. You're Hermione Fucking Granger." He got up and sat on the arm of her chair. "Do you know what Ron said before we went on the Horcrux hunt?" At the shake of her head and another swipe at slowly falling tears, he continued, "He said we wouldn't last two days without you." She smiled tremulously. "And you know what? He was right." Harry gently wiped away a stray tear. "I meant what I said up there today to those reporters. Whether you're Hermione Granger or Hermione Black, it doesn't matter. But you are the brightest witch of your age. And Voldemort _would_ have won without you by my side."

He moved from his perch and squatted down, gathering her hands in his so he could look her straight in the eyes. "You've been so strong for so long. And you helped me fight Voldemort. Don't ever think that I won't be here for you to help you fight the press or Sirius or the Ministry. Because I will. I want to fight those battles _for_ you, but I know you - so let me _help_ you fight them. Please?"

He searched her eyes for confirmation and breathed a sigh of relief when she almost silently responded. "Okay."

"Come on, let's go to bed. Get some sleep. And wait for me in the morning. Neville and I'll walk with you to the Great Hall, okay? Because you aren't doing this alone."

Harry walked Hermione the few steps to her door. "And if you're having trouble sleeping, just let me know. We'll figure something out, okay?"

Her brow wrinkled in thought. "You know, I haven't had a night terror since last week, before all this." Her hand motioned to her hair and face. "I mean, I'm still having some unpleasant dreams, but no terrifying nightmares."

"That's good then." Harry tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'll see you in the morning, yeah? Half seven?" She nodded and they both headed for their separate beds.

* * *

 _Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers! If you enjoyed this, please let me know with a review!_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Beta love to Glittergrrrl05**

Disclaimer: HP and the HP Universe are the sole property of JK Rowling and her assigns. I make no profit from this story.

* * *

 **Ch. 11**

 _Tuesday Morning_

 _Breakfast_

Hermione took a deep breath and headed for her door. Harry and Neville would be waiting for her, she knew, but this was still going to be the first time she had to face down the entire school. They hadn't gone far before a familiar voice called out to them.

"Hermione, Neville! Wait for me!" Daphne gasped out as she ran down the corridor to catch them. They stopped and waited for the normally polished blonde who looked slightly disheveled with her robe unbuttoned and hair mussed. She hadn't even taken the time to fully pack her messenger bag, holding two textbooks in her arms. "I wanted to walk in with you, Hermione. It wouldn't hurt to have a girl by your side." She handed her books to Neville so she could open her bag and properly pack them, flashing a smile at him as he cooperated without complaint. "Thanks, Neville."

As the foursome entered the Great Hall, the whispers started in earnest.

"Is that – "

"What happened to her hair?"

"Did you see her eyes?"

Hermione held her head high and, flanked by her friends, went immediately to the Gryffindor table and settled in for breakfast as Daphne peeled off for the Slytherin table.

Almost immediately the owls began delivering the post, and Hermione braced herself for the _Daily_ _Prophet_. She glanced at the picture and immediately began reading the article.

 _BLACK FAMILY SCANDAL! HEIRESS REVEALED!_

 _From Golden Girl to Black Heiress: The Hidden Identity of Hermione Granger_

 _Hermione Granger of the Golden Trio has been uncovered as Sirius Black's daughter, long-believed to have been murdered by Death Eaters on Halloween 1981. The family held a press conference yesterday. Also accompanying Mr. Black and Miss Black were Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, both famous for their roles in the defeat of Lord Voldemort._

As Hermione began to read, the whispers and comments around her began to swell.

"I say there, Hermione, you've made the front page." Neville teased her, pointing to the picture of Sirius, Harry, Hermione, and Ron on the front page. Hermione stared at the picture. She hadn't realized that she was holding hands with Harry. _Bloody Hell, there's no way they won't say something about that._ She visibly straightened her spine and turned her attention back to the article.

 _Mr. Black married Mary MacDonald, a Muggle- born witch and fellow Gryffindor at Hogwarts, immediately after matriculation. According to Mr. Black and Ministry records, the couple had one child, named Catriona Pleiades Black, born on New Year's Day, 1980. Mrs. Black was killed on Halloween 1981 and evidence indicated that her daughter perished with her. Mr. Black was sentenced almost immediately to Azkaban, so no investigation was undertaken at the time to confirm the child's death. Additionally, the family had been in hiding, so the existence of both Mrs. Black and Catriona (now Hermione) was not widely known._

 _Miss Black remained hidden to all as a Muggle-born witch who entered Hogwarts with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, the three comprising the group now known as the Golden Trio. Whilst details remain elusive, the charms which disguised her identity were broken this past week at Hogwarts. Miss Black appeared at the press conference with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, both of whom reiterated their support for her. Miss Black and Mr. Potter have been rumored to be romantically linked, and they held hands tightly as the press conference began._

"Well, it could have been worse, I suppose," she sighed. The rest of the article continued in the breathless tone but remained true to the facts.

The gong sounded, and they headed for the doors. But before they could get there, an unwelcome voice intruded.

"Miss Black! I need to speak with you!" Hermione froze in her tracks and turned around to face her least favorite professor, Professor Trallop. Harry, Neville, and Daphne followed suit more slowly.

"Professor. Can I help you?" Hermione answered, her voice frigidly polite.

"Yes; I believe, in light of all the changes, you would benefit from some individual counseling. How about this afternoon?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Professor, this afternoon really won't work. We missed Professor Weasley's class yesterday, and Harry and I are set to make up work with him." Hermione smiled diffidently before continuing. "And we really must go. Professor Slughorn doesn't appreciate it when we're tardy."

"But – "

"Thank you!" Hermione waved as she herded her escorts quickly to the exit, leaving the Professor standing alone with students flowing around her. "I don't like her."

"I agree, Hermione," Daphne mused. "I'm not sure why, though; something just seems off."

Harry and Neville exchanged loaded glances. "It couldn't have anything to do with her being really hot, could it?" Harry teased.

"Honestly, of course not." Hermione huffed.

"Yeah, Harry, of course not." Neville snickered as they reached the door to the Potions classroom. " _Of course not_."

* * *

 _Wednesday Morning_

 _Breakfast_

By the next morning, the headlines in the Daily Prophet had thankfully turned to other things, but Hermione almost dropped her copy in her eggs when she reached the society section. There was a small blurb with a picture of Sirius and a very pretty witch, on a street in London.

"Harry, have you seen this?" She interrupted his perusal of Quidditch scores to point out the photograph and article.

 _The newly revealed widower Sirius Black was spotted on Sunday afternoon in Notting Hill, London, apparently on an excursion with Deirdre Kathleen Finnigan, a 1988 graduate of Hogwarts School where she was a member of Hufflepuff House. She is currently employed by the Ministry for Magic as the personal assistant of the Minister for Magic himself. Her younger brother, Seamus Finnigan, was a Housemate and classmate of the famed Golden Trio of Gryffindor, which includes Mr. Black's newly discovered daughter, Hermione Black (formerly Granger), Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley. Mr. Black was somewhat famously sorted into Gryffindor in his own years at Hogwarts despite a strong family tradition of Slytherin membership. Is Mr. Black looking for a new mum for his daughter? What must Miss Black and his godson, Harry Potter, think of this new development? The Prophet, as always, is on the story and will keep you informed._

"Oh great, now we're both going to get owls asking for comments on Sirius's social life." Harry scoffed.

"Well, he needs to be more discreet if he's going to yell at me about going on a date to Hogsmeade," Hermione snapped, folding the paper and tucking it in her bag.

* * *

 _Thursday Evening_

 _Library_

Harry permitted himself a small smile when he found Hermione tucked into a table near the Restricted Section of the library. _Just where I thought she'd be_.

She was so engrossed in the magical law book she was reading, she didn't hear him coming and jumped when a low voice whispered in her ear "Constance vigilance, Hermione."

"Harry! You gave a fright. I was just doing a bit of research, trying to figure out the best way for Daphne and Draco to find a way around their betrothal contract."

"I can tell." Harry smirked as he reached out to look at the spine of the book she was perusing. He settled into the chair beside her. "Want some help?"

She sighed. "No, I was just about to quit in a few minutes. I'm pretty sure the contract is ironclad. They could marry other people since they're of age, but they'll have to find a ministry official willing to perform the ceremony. I'm going to keep looking, though; there might be something."

Harry looked speculatively at the book and his best friend. "You know, Hermione, what do you plan to do after graduation?"

"Well, I was thinking about going to the Auror Academy with you, but – " she looked apologetically at him. "I think I've about had my fill of fighting dark wizards. I'd like to do more with actually prosecuting them, putting them away. I think I could also work to change the laws regarding Magical Creatures. I mean, the way House Elves are treated is just shameful." Her voice trailed off as she saw the smile on his face. "What?"

"You'll be brilliant."

"I don't know about that, but it would be nice to use my ridiculous fame for a good cause."

He took her hand in his. "You realize that you haven't mentioned leaving to go live in the Muggle world, right?"

Hermione abruptly realized he was right. And then she thought about the past week. "I can't imagine living like this – in the spotlight – forever, Harry. It's miserable."

"Yeah, it is. But things'll blow over, 'Mione. I swear they will." He squeezed her hand, trying to lend some comfort and strength.

"This isn't fair to you, you know. If you hadn't been with me, they wouldn't have asked you all those horrible questions." Hermione looked at their joined hands. "I'd understand if you wanted to distance yourself from me in public."

"That's not happening." He paused, "Besides, those stupid and insulting questions made me think."

"Which ones? Because they were all stupid or insulting," Hermione asked drily.

"It was like they thought I was going to live off of Sirius." Harry disconnected their hands and adjusted his glasses and then ran both hands through his unkempt black hair, messing it further.

"And it got me thinking about my parents and what I want to do. And where I was going to live. " He picked up a quill and began to absently twirl it around. "Because I can't live with Sirius in London, and it sounds like he expects you to live with him."

She scoffed. "Now, that's not going to happen, either; I'll find an apartment or something."

Harry sent her a telling look. "He's really thinking you'll live with him, Hermione. And he's getting tenser around me. I just got off a call on the two-way mirror with him. I think he'd pull you out of school if he thought he could get away with it."

"Honestly, he can't be serious."

"He knows he can't get away with it. But it sounds like he's going to start paying more attention to all those pureblood rules that we've been ignoring or just unaware of."

Hermione sighed, resigned. "Which one?"

"Apparently, daughters are expected to live at home until they marry."

She stared at him as if he'd grown another eye. "You're joking."

"Nope. He told me that he hoped you'd consider moving into Grimmauld Place."

"What about you? He's just going to kick you out?" Hermione couldn't believe that Sirius would turn on his godson that way.

Harry shrugged. "It wasn't like it sounds."

"Then what _was_ it like, because it sounds like he's being a right prick," Hermione demanded.

"Well, those reporters made me think about where I was going to live and about my family. I asked Sirius about my father's home. I mean, the Potters were wealthy, Hermione. And you saw the remains of the cottage in Godric's Hollow – it wasn't an estate by any means. And that's no big deal, but I wondered – where did my dad grow up? Was it still around, yeah? Because it'd be my house, right?"

"I hadn't thought about it, but yes - if it exists, it should be yours by the laws of primogeniture," she mused.

"So, it turns out, Sirius knows where it is." Excitement crept into Harry's voice. "It's in Devon, and he's going to take me there. He thinks he can still get through the wards, and I should be able to as well. And if it's in okay shape, then I can live there. That's when he said something about it being good for me to live on my own so you could move into Grimmauld Place."

"If that's what he thinks, he's got another think coming," Hermione said. "But, do you want me to go with you to the Hall? When are you going?"

"Probably in couple of weeks; I'll let you know."

* * *

 _A week later_

 _Friday_

 _Breakfast, The Great Hall_

Hermione stared at _The Prophet_ 's society section headline. For the first time in several days, she and Harry were the featured story. She thought back to the study session in the library and the flying lesson. Both were just as they appeared. _Maybe they had been sitting a little bit closer together than Padma and Justin in the library._ And Harry had been very patient with her on the flying lesson. That's why they'd wound up on the same broom. She couldn't get the blasted thing to cooperate, so he'd taken her up on his new Firebolt to demonstrate. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the two pictures. _We do look very comfortable together._

"Bloody hell, Hermione; we can't even study together," Harry muttered resentfully. He, too, had the paper in his hand. "And we know it wasn't Padma. Who the hell is doing this?"

"I don't know. It could be anyone, couldn't it?" Hermione folded the paper and tossed it aside in disgust. "We were in school-wide common areas both times."

Bill appeared at their side. "The Headmistress would like to see you both in her office this morning at 8:30. You're excused from my class. We're working on advanced uses of Patronuses, so I think you both will make that up fairly quickly."

Bill squeezed their shoulders and walked away, his loose-limbed stride swiftly carrying him to the doors of the Great Hall, ignoring the fluttering eyelashes and sighs of female students on the way.

"This isn't fair," she said softly as they watched him leave.

"No, it isn't," Harry agreed. "But apparently you and I missed something because we were too wrapped up in getting rid of Voldemort."

"Too distracted to realize that the Wizarding World stopped advancing socially with the death of Queen Victoria?" Sarcasm dripped from her words.

The gong sounded to end breakfast, but they remained seated as the Hall cleared.

Neville slowed down as he and Daphne were passing. "Coming?"

"No, got a meeting with McGonagall," Harry answered.

"Oh, the bit in the paper this morning?" At their answering nods, he continued, "That's rubbish; you weren't doing anything wrong."

Hermione looked up from rummaging around in her bag for a hair tie. "Trust us; we know." She sat up, task accomplished, and pulled her hair into a messy updo with practiced motions. " _We know_."

Harry couldn't help but grin at the resigned tone in her voice. "You know, Hermione, I've never been able to understand how you do that with your hair and not even look."

"Practice, Harry. Lots of practice," she said drily. "With my hair, longer is easier because I can always put it up."

"I've always liked your hair." He reached up and tugged on a stray tendril, watched it rebound into its normal loose curl. "It suits you."

"Crazy?"

"No." _Full of life. Passionate._ Harry started to continue, but thought the better of it. "What do you think McGonagall is going to say to us?"

"Lecture us again, maybe?"

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Hermione stood before the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the stair to McGonagall's office.

"Courage." Harry said the password and the statue moved to allow them entry. Side by side, they arrived in the office.

"Ah. Mr. Potter, Miss Black. You've arrived. Please, come in. Have a seat." As they stepped into the room, a movement in the corner drew their attention. Molly Weasley, still clad in a flour-covered apron, stood near the fireplace Floo.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. _Is this worse than we thought? Molly wouldn't come up for no reason._

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," they chorused.

"Never mind that," she answered, bustling forward and drawing them both into a motherly embrace. "Have you been eating? You need to come to the house for a weekend soon." She stepped back and cupped their cheeks in turn. "We miss you."

The Headmistress waved her hand, drawing their attention and simultaneously inviting them to make use of the chairs before her desk. She considered them over her the rims of her glasses. "I assume you both saw the paper this morning."

"Yes, ma'am."

Molly moved towards the desk, and the Headmistress conjured a chair from thin air with an efficient wave of her wand and a non-verbal spell so the motherly witch could take a seat.

By silent and mutual agreement, Harry and Hermione waited for McGonagall to continue.

"It's rubbish. I'll be the first to say that. But you two are news, especially since your true parentage has been revealed, Miss Gran – Miss Black." She studied their set jaws. "I know; it's unfair. Someone is betraying your confidence. I thought you'd sorted that out?"

Hermione paled a bit at the oblique reference to how they'd ferreted out Padma's unintentional betrayal. _How did McGonagall know?_

"We thought we had, Headmistress," Harry replied. "But whoever reported that Hermione and I study together and practiced flying together, well, it could have been anyone. We were in the common areas." He turned to look at Molly. "Why did you come up, Mrs. Weasley? We didn't do anything wrong."

"Harry, dear, I know neither of you did anything wrong. I came to speak to Hermione."

McGonagall leaned forward. "Study in the common room for a bit. Try to avoid public displays."

"No." Hermione refused.

"What was that, Miss Black?" McGonagall questioned.

"No. I'm not going to do it. Harry is my best friend. We've been friends since we were eleven. We lived together in a tent for an entire winter. I refuse to hide our friendship for some antiquated notion of propriety." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest truculently. "I'm not giving him up."

"Harry, how do you feel about this?" Molly asked gently.

"I don't see why we need to hide our friendship."

Molly smiled softly at the set expression on both their faces. "Are you ready to accept any consequences that might occur from that?"

"Yes." Harry nodded.

"Mr. Potter, you may go. I think we need to have a brief chat with Miss Black." McGonagall's crisp tones brooked no defiance.

Jaw set, Harry nodded shortly, reached over and squeezed Hermione's hand. "I'll wait for you."

"I'll be fine, Harry."

"And I _said_ that I'd wait for you." He grabbed his bookbag, hooked it over his shoulder and strode for the door. "See you in a few minutes."

The three witches watched him leave, and as the door closed behind him, Molly took the lead. "Hermione, dear, you do realize that by refusing to temper your relationship with Harry, people are going to make assumptions, and if those assumptions don't come to fruition, you're going to be ostracized."

"This is ridiculous." Hermione sniffed. "I still don't understand what all the fuss is about. We were just studying, for Godric's sake."

"That very well may be true, Miss Black, but in the Wizarding World, prominent witches and wizards are held to a certain standard. And you both are _quite_ prominent. That standard dictates that you _must_ act accordingly." McGonagall strove to make Hermione understand the reality of the situation. "No, it is not fair, but it is life." She held up her hand, palm out, to forestall further protest from Hermione. "Was it fair that you lost your mother and father for most of your life to be raised as a Muggle born? No, it was not. Was it fair that Voldemort murdered Mr. Potter's parents, and he was raised by the worst sort of Muggles? Absolutely not. But it is _life_." Her voice softened. "Are you absolutely certain that you have no feelings beyond friendship for Mr. Potter?"

"That's not the point!" Hermione dug in her heels. "We shouldn't be forced into a relationship based on some Victorian social more!"

"You didn't answer the question, Hermione," Molly pointed out quietly.

She lifted her chin. "And if I decide to leave the Wizarding World? What then?"

The elder witches both paled at the suggestion.

"That would certainly change things," McGonagall finally agreed. "But it would be most unfortunate for everyone. I hope you think very long and very hard before making that kind of decision."

"What do you want to happen, Hermione?" Molly interjected.

"How can you even ask that? I want to be left alone to make my own decisions. And if Harry and I ever decide to date, I want it to be because we want to, not because the press wants us to!"

"So, you aren't digging in your heels because you don't feel anything for Harry?" Molly pressed.

"Of course I feel something for Harry! He's – " Hermione's voice trailed off. _He's the love of my life_. "He's my best friend," she finished lamely.

"That's all?"

Hermione visibly wilted in the face of her mentor's simple question. "No."

Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a speaking glance.

"We just want what is best for you. And these reports aren't best for you. You're so famous, Hermione."

"What if Harry and I pretended to date? There'd be a blast of publicity and then it would fade, right?"

Mrs. Weasley looked thoughtful. "Maybe. But if nothing came of it, you'd have another round. And this one even more damaging because the expectations would be that you'd be announcing your marriage."

Hermione grimaced.

"Just try to be very discreet, Miss Black. Always think about what you are doing."

* * *

A/N: I know, I know...when is Harry going to say something to Hermione? Or when is Hermione going to say something to Harry? The answer: soon. Just not this chapter. But, it's coming...I promise. If you enjoyed the chapter, I'd much appreciate a review. Happy Holidays!


	12. Chapter 12

*Thanks to reader _**BethieBee**_ who came up with an interesting idea that sparked something….

Beta Love: **glitterally** , she's the best. :)

Happy New Year, y'all!

* * *

 **Ch. 12**

 _Saturday Morning_

 _Room 1_

 _Eighth Tower_

It was Saturday morning, and Harry was impatient. Hermione hadn't been in the mood to talk to him after their lecture from the Headmistress and Mrs. Weasley yesterday. If anything, she was more withdrawn than before. Impulsively, he decided to visit Sirius. Even though they'd been at odds recently, maybe Sirius would help him, and he just needed to talk. Getting up, he dressed hurriedly and stepped through the Floo with a shouted "Grimmauld Place!"

He stopped abruptly at the sight before him. Sirius was laying on the sofa with a pretty brunette witch in his arms that Harry recognized from the papers. A small blanket Harry normally saw draped across the back of the furniture was drawn over them, around their waists and pulled up under her chin, protecting her modesty. Sirius' arm curled around her stomach protectively, and the look on his face was more peaceful than Harry had ever seen it. _He's in love, really truly in love, and happy._ Not wanting to disturb the sleeping couple, Harry froze. He couldn't go back through Floo without shouting, and he could only disapparate to the gates of Hogwarts. And to do that, he'd still have to make his way out of the room and onto the street. _Bugger. Maybe I can get to the door without waking them._

Harry sidled by on nearly silent feet, but years in Azkaban finally came to the fore. Just has Harry made the door to the lounge, Sirius's low voice stopped him cold. "Harry? What's wrong?"

Keeping his back to the couple, Harry froze and answered, his voice a bare whisper. "Errr…Nothing. I just came to talk to you, but you were, uh, busy, so I thought I'd two-way you later. Sorry to wake you."

"Deirdre Kathleen, it's just Harry. Go back to sleep." Sirius spoke to the woman in his arms. "I'll be back in a bit. Let's talk in the kitchen, Harry; I'll meet you there."

Harry headed to the kitchen as they continued a low-voiced conversation. He sat down heavily in his accustomed chair before Kreacher appeared, bowing low. He waited, nursing the coffee the elderly House Elf provided, thinking about the scene he'd just witnessed until Sirius appeared almost ten minutes later, lips slightly swollen, but upturned. He accepted his cup of coffee from Kreacher and settled into his chair.

"Morning, Harry. I didn't know you were coming. Everything alright at Hogwarts?"

"You saw the paper yesterday?"

Sirius's face darkened. "Yeh, I did. And even I think it's rubbish. Those pictures were of perfectly normal things for students;. Deirdre-Kathleen pointed that out. I was thinking about pulling Hermione out of school, but she talked me around."

Eyes wide behind his glasses, Harry shook his head in denial. "You can't…." His voice trailed off at Sirius's smirk.

"In point of fact, I can, Harry." Sirius's eyes darkened. "She may be of age, but as the head of the Black family, I can make it very difficult for her to stay at Hogwarts."

"Why would you do that to her? She'd hate you."

"I know she would, and that's why I don't want to. But Harry, if this keeps up, I'm not going to have a choice. She's my daughter, and I owe it to Mary and to her to keep her _safe_."

Harry carefully set his mug down. "You should know me well enough to know that I'll do everything I can to keep her safe. And she knows more than most of us combined about protection spells. She doesn't really need that. What she _needs_ is privacy."

"I can't provide that as long she's at Hogwarts."

"Why did you tell me to ask her to the Graduation Ball?" Harry abruptly changed the subject.

Sirius opened his mouth and closed it before he answered the question. "Truthfully? When I see you both together, it just seems right. I'd hoped you'd take advantage of that and find happiness together."

"Then why have you been so angry about the thought of us together? That doesn't make any sense!"

"I didn't know she was my daughter!" Sirius growled as he leaned forward threateningly. "Now I do." He leaned back, his voice smoothing out. "But she's still a sweet innocent baby in my heart, and I've got another chance with her. But - " his voice quavered, "I look at her and she's grown, yet still so good. And smart. Then, I have you, and I love you, Harry, but you're far from innocent. I know that not all the articles in the paper over the summer were true, but I know which ones are. And there are things you _don't_ know."

"You're joking." Harry gasped. "If Hermione and I were together, I'd never cheat on her or treat her ill. You _know_ that. She's _literally_ the most important person in the world to me." Something Sirius said nudged at his consciousness. "Wait, what do you mean, there are things I don't know?"

Sirius leaned forward as if to impress on his godson the importance of what he was about to say. "There's a betrothal contract."

"What?" Harry gasped.

"Neither of you can marry anyone but each other without my consent."

Harry's jaw dropped; it never occurred to him that their parents might have signed one. " _My_ mother went along with this? _Her_ mother?"

"They didn't have to, Harry. There was an out for you both so that the contract could never be enforced against your – and Hermione's – will. James and I were just," Sirius paused, considering his next words, "doing a bit of wishing and hoping. Joining the nobles Houses of Black and Potter and all that."

"You know she'll never forgive you if you try to force her to marry someone. Can you release us?"

Sirius stood and poured another cup of coffee before he answered. Staring out the kitchen window, he finally continued. "I could."

"For Godric's sake, you've got to! That would be the last straw; she'd move to Muggle London and you'd never see her again. You'd never see either of us because I'd follow her." Harry's voice rose.

Sirius's eyes widened at the threat. "You can't be serious."

"Of course, I'm bloody well serious. She's the love of my life! I'll follow her to hell and back; living as a Muggle is nothing."

Sirius held out his hands placatingly. "I will. I'll release it." He stopped. "Did you say she was the love of your life?"

"I told you so." An unfamiliar voice came from the door, jerking Sirius's attention to the entry.

"Deirdre Kathleen." His voice softened and eyes warmed even further. "I'd like to introduce you to my godson, Harry Potter."

Harry turned and stretched a hand out to greet her. "Hullo." Rather than clasping it, she pulled him into a brief hug.

"Harry, it's so good to meet you. Call me Kate." She sent a teasing glance at Sirius and tilted her head in his direction. "He's the only one who calls me Deirdre Kathleen."

She went and busied herself pouring a cup of coffee. "Tell me about yourself."

Harry smiled at the friendly witch who seemed somehow familiar. "Well, I'm finishing my last year at Hogwarts. We, uh, weren't able to go last year."

"I know. My brother was in Gryffindor with you; he was full of the story of your return when I got to Hogwarts just after the battle ended."

"Your brother?"

She smiled, and that mischievous grin reminded Harry of someone. "Seamus? Seamus is your brother?"

"He is. He was a surprise for our mum. I graduated the year before Bill Weasley." She shrugged. "And so Seamus and I weren't terribly close. He was born shortly before I left for Hogwarts. And then by the time he got there, I was long gone."

"Where, uh, where were you during the war?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Ireland." Kate paused as she poured a dollop of cream into her coffee. "I was working with the underground there, trying to shore up a resistance effort in case the worst happened. Thank the Founders it didn't. We arrived at Hogwarts right after the final battle was over. Oliver Wood was with us – you remember him?"

Harry nodded.

"So, afterward, when Kingsley became the Minister for Magic, I applied for the position of his assistant." She stopped and glanced at Sirius. "I met your godfather when he came to meet with the Minister about Hermione. We've gotten - close - the past few weeks."

Sirius held out his hand, urging her to come sit next to him. "I have to say that Deirdre Kathleen has helped me be a little more, ahh, accepting of what's going on with Hermione and you."

"Nothing is going on at the moment." Harry grimaced, "I don't want to risk our friendship, and Gryffindor boldness aside, the thought of not being friends with her, not being around her, it scares me. But, I'll do it. The Masque is tonight. I'll make it work."

* * *

 _Room Four_

 _Eighth Tower_

Hermione's eyes flew open and for a moment she couldn't remember why she'd slept so late. Her wand hadn't buzzed her awake. _The Masque is tonight!_ She didn't remember being this excited for the Yule Ball back in 4th year, and the last couple of years had been noticeably devoid of lighthearted social activities. Spending most of last year hunting Horcruxes was decidedly not fun.

Daphne rolled over and met her eyes. "I'm so excited, aren't you?"

Hermione, hand still tucked under her pillow, nodded. "It feels so silly to be so excited about a costume party, but I think it's going to be fun! I love my costume, especially the crown. It's just so pretty and feminine."

"I think we need to get all the girls together so we can make a day of it – getting ready. We can have a spa day. Oh – we could have brunch first!"

Hermione felt her eyes glaze over at the thought of a spa day. "We can go to the day salon in Hogsmeade. I bet we can get pedicures."

"Pfft. A pedicure? I need a massage." Daphne sat up. "What are you waiting on? Get moving!"

Several hours, brunch, a pedicure, a manicure, a massage, and an early dinner later, Daphne and Hermione stood before the mirror in their room, surveying their respective costumes. Hermione watched in awe as Daphne charmed her make-up to reflect the silver and white of a winter storm and her silver dress flowed around her gracefully, like water.

"You look gorgeous, Daphne. Neville isn't going to know what hit him."

Daphne turned in the mirror to make certain everything about her costume was in perfect order. Nodding in satisfaction, she affixed her icicle earrings and necklace and smirked in satisfaction at her reflection.

"Thank you. And I'm quite sure Neville will be looking at plenty of girls tonight." She waved her wand, charming her half mask in place. "And you are truly stunning."

"Do you really think so?" Hermione spread the iridescent folds of her skirt to admire the shimmering play of light on the fabric.

"Absolutely. More beautiful than Guinevere herself."

Hermione mimicked Daphne's wand wave and affixed her mask. "Have you heard what the boys are doing?"

"No. Draco has been silent as the tomb. And Blaise."

"Harry hasn't told me anything. He flat out stonewalled me." Hermione sounded a bit disgruntled that he'd managed to keep her in the dark. After a final check of their costumes, they headed for the Great Hall.

* * *

 _Halloween Masque_

 _The Great Hall_

Neville, Harry, and the remainder of the Eighth Year wizards, fashionably late, strolled into the Great Hall, looking like virtual clones of one another. While Blaise stood out, all of the others had glamoured their hair and eyes. Harry went so far as to have a temporary charm placed on his eyes to correct his vision. As a final touch, Harry and Neville both used an advanced charm to modify their voices so they sounded exactly alike. Harry spotted Hermione in her Guinevere costume beside Ginny, dressed as the Lady of the Lake. Pansy looked like a giant monarch butterfly, but beside her was Daphne.

"Neville, I need your help." Harry drew Neville's attention.

"Yeah, sure mate. What do you need?"

"I, ahh, I need to get Hermione alone, and I don't want her to know it's me. Can you distract Daphne?"

Neville's famous one-sided grin flashed. "Absolutely. It'll be my genuine pleasure. But what about Ginny?" He tilted his chin towards the youngest Weasley.

Harry glanced over at the trio of girls as Pansy had flitted off to socialize. "I don't think she'll be a problem." Sure enough, Blaise was moving in the direction of the redhead.

"I'll get Daphne on the dance floor. You can pull Hermione off from there. Just give me a few minutes."

"Can you believe them? Honestly. They said they were going to come in costume. And they all look exactly alike," Hermione groused to Daphne when she saw the Eighth Years. "Well, except Blaise." They both watched as he drew Ginny away to the dance floor.

"Well, it's a costume." Daphne laughed. "And we shine all the brighter. It's just as it should be if you ask me. Wait - is that Luna?"

Luna's short, bright gold dress would certainly raise eyebrows in wider society. "What is she? Those earrings? I can't quite make out -" Hermione's voice trailed off abruptly when one of the mystery eighth years strode up beside the brightly costumed witch.

"I know. She's a Golden Snitch!" Daphne laughed. "Those earrings are wings! But the real question - is that who I think it is with her?" Before Hermione could answer, an eighth-year wizard arrived at Daphne's elbow and whispered in her ear.

"Thank you, my Lord Mystery." Daphne nodded to Hermione as she spun off into the arms of the tall wizard beside her.

Hermione smiled as the pair began dancing and verbally sparring from the looks of it. She muffled a sound of surprise when an unfamiliar voice whispered in her ear and a gloved hand clasped her elbow. "Will you grace this poor commoner with your presence in this dance, your Majesty?"

She spun around with the idea that it was Harry at her arm, but the brown eyes belied her assumption. "Of course, I will." As they gained the dance floor, she settled into the shelter of his arms. "And who should I call you? Lord Enigma? Sir Puzzle?"

"Oh, my queen, I'm just a humble servant to your beauty."

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the glib flattery that was so unlike Harry. "I find that you represent a conundrum. I thought you were Harry, but you don't sound like him, nor do you say things he'd say. But I know you're one of my classmates because of the way you're dressed." As Hermione continued her discussion of the mystery man dancing with her, he whirled her into a shadowed corner and cut off her speech by pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss that ended all too soon.

Hermione's instincts were screaming at her. _It's Harry! It's Harry!_ But her mind intervened. _It could be him, but it might not be. They're all alike._ The lips seemed familiar, but the eyes were all wrong. They weren't the familiar emerald of Harry; instead, they were just brown.

"Who are you?" she whispered, staring into those so wrong eyes.

"I thought you wanted to be swept away by a mystery man, Hermione." He leaned forward once again, but instead of kissing her lips, he nipped at her ear and gently blew into the shell of it. His lips quirked upward at her shiver. His tongue lightly traced the outside of her ear. "I can't be a mystery and tell you who I am."

When she began to answer him, his hand swept up, and he laid his finger across her lips. "Shhh. Don't talk, don't think. Just feel for a little bit." He trailed short kisses down her neck, and she didn't bite back a moan. Instead, she angled her chin up and to the side to give him a better angle.

"Please – " she gasped as he kissed the tops of her breasts, sending goosebumps spreading across her chest. He moved up the other side of her neck, stopping to suck lightly just behind her ear.

Harry contemplated his next move. If he kissed her lips like he wanted, she'd know beyond a shadow of a doubt it was him, and he wanted to preserve that sense of mystery, if only because she'd said it was a fantasy of hers. He sucked the sensitive skin just a bit harder. _She'll glamour it anyway, but I'm going to leave a mark._ He tangled his hands in her curls and tilted her head slightly further to the side. "I'm leaving a mark, Hermione. Tell me you're okay with this."

She nodded, a short movement of affirmation. The unknown wizard smiled against her neck and continued his sensual assault on her senses.

"Harry, please…." Her breathy voice trailed off.

"Are you sure?" he whispered in her ear.

"Ohhh. Oops!" A laugh interrupted them.

Harry grimaced behind his mask. He knew that laugh. _Time to retreat._ "Until later, love." He pressed a brief kiss to Hermione's lips, turned, nodded to Ginny, and swept away.

Hermione watched the unknown wizard walk away. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. His walk wasn't the loose-limbed, easy stride that she was accustomed to seeing from Harry, but like his voice and his eyes, a stride could easily be modified to conceal identity.

Ginny reached her side, lips slightly swollen and watched the departing form of the masked wizard. "Who was that?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his retreating form. "I don't know."

"Hermione, it's Harry, right?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me."

"You kissed him! I saw you two kissing! How could you _not_ know?" Ginny narrowed her eyes and looked carefully at Hermione's neck. "He left a hickey, for Godric's sake!"

Hermione slapped her hand over her neck. "It wasn't like that. We never really kissed like Harry and I did."

"You're joking."

"No, I'm _not_. I don't do that; you know it, Ginny. But when he blew in my ear, just this little bit, I could feel it in my stomach. I swear my knees almost buckled." Hermione paused. "I called him Harry, though."

"What did he say?" Ginny gasped. _Staid, uptight Hermione lost her head with an unknown wizard? Unreal._

"He asked me if I was sure."

"Oh, he didn't," Ginny breathed out.

"He did," Hermione answered. "But I'm going to find out."

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, across the hall, a group of identically dressed wizards milled about, deliberately shifting, like the elaborate Muggle game of shells. At a prearranged signal, they moved into a line. But by that point, it was impossible to know who was who. Only Blaise stood out.

When the clock chimed midnight, everyone in the Hall removed their masks, and, in an impressive show of magic, as the eighth year wizards removed their masks, their personal glamours faded away.

"That's remarkable." Hermione immediately began to speculate on how they made their costumes work. "I think they charmed the masks to have their glamour. Very clever." She was reluctantly impressed.

Harry strolled over to Hermione and Ginny, mask in hand and grin in place. "Did you like our costumes?"

"It was clever, I'll grant you that, but I'm going to figure out who was who." Hermione narrowed her eyes at her best friend.

"Why?" Harry's eyes lit up in amusement as he looked around the room and his gaze landed on Luna who was talking to a now unmasked Draco. "Looks like someone is chasing a Snitch."

"Pay attention, Harry. I'm going to find out," she insisted.

Harry took his gaze off of Luna and looked at Hermione. After a pause, he ran his now ungloved fingers down the side of her face teasingly. "Good luck with that."

* * *

 _Sunday Morning_

 _Great Hall_

Minerva McGonagall heaved a sigh as she read the Society section of the _Prophet_ in dismay. She'd lay odds that she would be getting several irate owls today. Black and Greengrass were probably on the way. It featured two sets photos prominently, one of Hermione with a masked wizard and the other of Daphne doing the same with another mystery man, but one who clearly was not Draco Malfoy. She scanned the article with some trepidation, trying to prepare herself for the difficulties of the day.

 _Hogwart's Halloween Masquerade: Shenanigans Afoot?_

 _Last night was Hogwarts annual Halloween masque, and the Prophet has obtained exclusive photographs of everyone's favorite Golden Girl, Hermione Black. Dressed elegantly as Queen Guinevere, she slipped away with an unknown wizard, only to return looking quite a bit disheveled. (see photos below). Also of some note, Daphne Greengrass, of the prominent Greengrass family, is reportedly betrothed to one Draco Malfoy (scion of the Wiltshire Malfoys, also in his eighth year at Hogwarts). According to the exclusive photos we have obtained, she also disappeared from the festivities with a masked classmate, but one who bears no resemblance to her fiance. Headmistress McGonagall has not responded to requests for comment at the time of this printing._

An owl interrupted Minerva's breakfast, prodding her for attention. She flicked open the letter. Her lips twisted in derision when she read the contents.

 _Dear Headmistress,_

 _Here at the Prophet, we have obtained exclusive photos of Hermione Black and Daphne Greengrass apparently sneaking away from the Masque last evening. Would you care to comment on behalf of Hogwarts School?_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Rita Skeeter_

 _Society Page Editor_

 _The Daily Prophet_

 _That cheeky bitch!_ Minerva briefly contemplated calling in the couples in question, but the hall was all but deserted this morning; she gave a mental shrug. They were all of age, after all. And if the worst they did was a bit of kissing in the shadows, well, there were worse things to do.

* * *

Happy New Year! You didn't think Daphne was going to skate with no attention, did you? Next chapter, my friends, next chapter...I promise. Please review if you enjoyed, thank you!


	13. Chapter 13

**Beta Love:** glitterally. Thank you, my friend!

* * *

 **Ch. 13**

 _Sunday Evening_

 _The Great Hall_

A familiar owl dropped a red envelope on Harry's plate just as dinner began. It continued to the faculty table and dropped a white one in front of the Headmistress.

Before Harry could pick it up, it began smoking. "Fucking hell. Best get it done." He pulled it open, and Sirius's voice boomed out.

" _Harry James Potter, you're supposed to protect her, and instead you let her wander off with some stranger? Have you lost your mind? If I see one more word about you or Hermione in the paper, by the Founders I'll see too it that you'll both be pulled from school and that contract enforced!"_

The unnatural silence of the Hall ended as a titter swept through the students.

"I'm going to kill him. Harry, I'm going to kill him." Hermione slammed her fork and knife down. "I need your two-way." She pushed her chair back. "Are you coming or not?"

He glanced down at the unappetizing ashes of the Howler all over the food on his plate. "Yeah, I'm on my way."

In all the fuss surrounding the two of them leaving, no one noticed the red-trimmed envelope that Daphne tucked into her robe pocket. A Gryffindor like Sirius might make a public scene with a Howler, but Slytherins like the Greengrasses would _never_ air their dirty laundry in public. She shuddered to think of what she was going to hear when she opened it in the privacy of her own room.

Hermione stopped muttering to herself when they reached the portrait entry.

"Quaffle." Harry spoke the password and waved her in.

But she didn't enter. "Harry, what contract was he talking about?"

He blinked furiously behind his glasses. "Buggering hell."

"Tell me," she demanded.

"Can we go in? Not have this conversation in the corridor?" He waved her in once again.

"Fine." She stepped through and stalked over to her favorite chair to sit down. "Tell me what he meant."

Harry dropped down onto the ottoman facing her, elbows propped on his knees. "He wasn't thinking, Hermione. He wouldn't do it."

"What contract, Harry?" Hermione's careful accents warned him that he was running out of time.

"He and my father signed a betrothal contract for the two of us."

"You must be joking."

He shook his head. "No."

"Our mothers thought this was okay?"

"Apparently they didn't sign them, but felt okay about it because either Sirius or my father could release us."

"And when, pray tell, were you planning on telling _me_ about this?" Hermione's leg swung violently, betraying her anger.

"I just found out yesterday! And he told me he wasn't going to enforce it, so I'd hoped it wasn't going to come up," he protested. "And besides, by the time I got back, you weren't here. I didn't see you until the Masque; did you want me to pull you aside then? And today I didn't see you until we sat down for dinner."

Hermione was in no mood to be reasonable, but he could see the wind leaving her sails. "Fine. Where's the two-way?"

* * *

 _Sunday Evening_

 _Grimmauld Place_

"You did what?" Kate snapped at Sirius.

"I sent a Howler to Harry."

"Why, in the name of the Founders, did you do that? You are such an idiot!"

"What? Why? He's supposed to be protecting her, Deirdre Kathleen!"

"So you sent him a Howler? One that likely arrived right at dinner time so the _entire_ school, including _your very independent daughter_ , heard it? Have you lost your mind?"

Sirius paled when he realized just how impulsive he'd been. "Bugger."

"Sirius Black! Come to this mirror right now!" Hermione's voice rang out across the room from where he kept the two-way hanging beside the mantle. A look of genuine fear crossed Sirius's face when he heard her tone.

"Do you want me to answer?" Kate offered, taking pity on him.

"Sirius! I know you're there!"

"No, no. I'll do it." He crossed the room and picked up the mirror. "Hello, Hermione. Would you like to explain yourself? Going off with some stranger?"

Behind him, Kate slapped her hand to her forehead and muttered something about "idiot male."

"Excuse me? I'm of age! You may be my biological father, but you're _not_ my keeper! I'm perfectly capable of making decisions on my own."

"That very well may be true, but you were showing piss-poor judgement last night," he snapped back. "You were seen and photographed leaving with someone - not even Harry - and then you came back looking like you'd indulged in some sort of, of…," his voice trailed off.

"You're angry because I was photographed? Or because I was with someone?" Hermione was fuming. "And what is this about a betrothal contract? Surely you don't think I'll sit still for you telling me whom I have to marry!"

Kate let out an audible groan. "Sirius, you didn't threaten them with that."

"It wasn't a threat - "

"Uh, yeah, it was, Sirius." Harry's face appeared in the mirror.

Hermione snatched it before he could continue. "Sirius Black, I'll never forgive you if you try to pick my husband. I can promise you that!" She shoved the mirror into Harry's hand and stalked away.

He held it up and looked at his grandfather. "She wasn't with a stranger. She was with me; you ought to know us both better than that. And since you saw fit to send that Howler, I'm not going to get a chance to have that conversation I wanted to have with her tonight." Harry looked away to gather his thoughts. "And since it came in the middle of dinner, I'd say you're going to have us on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow."

The next morning, when Sirius opened his copy of the Prophet, he found that Harry was right. _Bugger. They even picked up on the line about the contract. It's not going to take them long to look it up. Buggering hell, I fucked up._

* * *

 _1_ _st_ _Saturday in November_

 _Slytherin/Hufflepuff Quidditch Match_

The first Saturday in November dawned cold and clear. Hermione made her way to the Quidditch stands with Harry and Neville, settling in with their fellow Gryffindors.

"Which team are we supporting today, anyway?" Hermione asked.

"Slytherin, of course," Harry answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What? Why? Are you _friends_ with Draco now? Really friends?" Hermione couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"Well, I don't quite hate the guy like I used to, but that's not why we're pulling for Slytherin," he answered.

"Then why?"

Harry sighed. "We're pulling for them because we want our match with them to mean something. If we both go undefeated, then we'll know for certain we're the best."

"Well, what if Hufflepuff is better? What if they lose here, but then they beat us? Or if they win here and against us?" Hermione reasoned.

Harry and Neville both looked aghast. "Are you taking the piss, Hermione?" Neville asked. "Hufflepuff won't beat us." Neville looked sick for a moment before turning to Harry for confirmation. "They won't beat us, will they?"

"No. They won't," Harry snapped.

"But what if they did?" Hermione moved back to her train of thought.

"Hermione. No. Just no. They won't."

The match, which started just moments later, might have been one of the shortest on record in Hogwarts history. The Hufflepuff Keeper was so inept that the Seeker actually kept fairly close to him in order to try and act as an obstacle for the Slytherin Chasers. After only fifteen minutes, the score was 50-10 for Slytherin. And since his attention was focused on the Quaffle, he was well behind Draco when he spotted the Snitch at mid-pitch. In an exceedingly rare Quidditch move, Draco caught the Snitch in the sixteenth minute with a Plumpton Pass to end the game.

During Draco's victory lap, he paused before the Gryffindor stands and flashed the Snitch at Harry. "Hey Potter! Top that. Sixteen minutes!" He flew off to the announcer's stand where Luna was openly speculating on the effect of Warbling Humdingers on the Hufflepuff keeper.

"Still think Hufflepuff will beat us, Hermione?" Neville ribbed.

"Honestly, Neville, it's not as if it really matters. It's only sport." Hermione sniffed, arms crossed. "And I was asking in the _hypothetical_ sense, not that I actually think we'll lose to Hufflepuff." She turned to Harry who hadn't yet responded to Draco's taunt. "Are you alright?"

He jerked when he heard her address him. "What? Oh, yes. I'm fine. I just can't believe Malfoy pulled off the Plumpton Pass. I don't think that's been done in years."

"Maybe he was showing off," she offered.

"For whom? That was a risky move. He could have lost it so easily!" Neville objected.

"Are you two blind? For Luna! She's a huge Quidditch fan and is sure to be impressed by the – what did you call it, Harry – the Plumpton Pass? That. She's sure to be impressed by it."

"I don't suppose you'd be impressed by it, would you Hermione?" Neville asked.

"Certainly not. I'm only impressed by players not getting hurt."

"You wouldn't be even a little bit excited by Harry catching the Snitch in fifteen minutes?" Neville teased her.

"Well, maybe a little. But I'm more amazed when he doesn't wind up in the hospital wing! Now, can we go inside? I need to go to the library. I have a bit of revising to catch up on."

* * *

 _Sunday Morning (Early)_

 _Room 1_

 _Eighths Tower_

Harry silently laughed at the undignified snores emanating from the bed opposite his, so unlike his normally polished roommate. Draco had stumbled, literally stumbled, in from the the victory celebration in the Slytherin dungeons after curfew. He'd dropped, almost fully clothed, face down on his bed and remained there, motionless, but not noiseless, for the rest of the night. Harry briefly contemplated pulling the old _aguamenti_ prank as payback for the bone-jarring snores, but decided against it. He had bigger fish to fry today. He gathered clothes and headed for the bath to get ready to face the day. He had to talk to Hermione today.

No sooner had Harry settled into his seat in the Great Hall than Neville strolled in and dropped into the seat beside him.

"Morning." Neville wasn't long on conversation before his first cup of coffee.

"Morning." Harry grunted as he glanced around the tall wizard towards the doors for the third time in as many minutes.

Eventually, Neville woke up enough to notice Harry's inattention. "Oi, mate, who're you looking for?"

"No one."

"Bollocks. You're looking for Hermione."

Harry grunted again, unwilling to commit to an answer. _Maybe today wasn't the best time to talk to her. Maybe tomorrow._

"You know, you need to just tell her how you feel."

"It's not that simple, Neville. She's one of my best friends; I can't lose that."

"You're full of shite. It _is_ that simple." Neville snorted.

"You're one to talk, mate." Harry fired back. "What about Daphne? And you aren't even risking seven years of friendship with her."

"What about her?"

"Have _you_ told her how _you_ feel about her?"

"Situation's a bit different. She's engaged to bloody Malfoy."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, and if she had a way out of it? Would you want her to take it?"

After a moment's pause, Neville nodded shortly. "Yeah, I would." But he wasn't done with Harry quite yet. "Mate, where did you set your balls?"

"What the bleeding hell are you going on about now?"

"You need to go find your pair, because you sure as hell aren't wearing them."

"Yeah - you're one to talk. And I _was_ going to talk to Hermione today. I just haven't seen her."

"Sure. I'll believe it when I see it."

"Oh, bugger off, Neville. Maybe you should talk to your girl and let me worry about mine." Harry gestured to the Slytherin table where Daphne was seated beside Pansy.

Neville looked over at the Slytherin table and narrowed his eyes. "I think I will." He got up. "Think about what I said, mate; I know for a fact Boot is interested."

Boot was interested? _Of course Boot's interested. She's bloody brilliant and hot as hell; why wouldn't he be interested?_ But finding Hermione wasn't as easy as Harry thought it would be. He lingered over his toast as long as humanly possible, cut Quidditch practice short, and checked the library, but she was nowhere to be found. Dinner, however - she had to show up for that. He headed down to the Great Hall and made sure the seat at his side was open.

Finally, just before the first course arrived, the Fates smiled on him. Hermione settled into the seat next to him. Inexplicably, suddenly, he had no idea what to say. _Bugger, I should've planned this better._ _I can't have this conversation in front of all the Eighth years. Maybe she'll go with me to the Room of Requirement after dinner. That's it._

"Harry - I haven't see you all day. How was practice?" She made small talk as she prepared her plate.

"It was fine. Pass the potatoes, please." He took the platter when she handed to him. "I was looking for you earlier. What have you been up to?"

A grimace passed over her face. "I was with Daphne. She and I finished up with the Wizarding law books. It doesn't look good for her and Draco, because her parents and his tied them up very tightly in this contract." She pushed her food around on her plate rather than eating. "I can't find a way out except for them to marry other people, unless, of course, their parents agree to void it."

"And the chances of that?"

"Daphne thinks they're pretty slim." They both looked over to Daphne and Neville who appeared engrossed in a very serious conversation.

"Have you told Draco?" Harry hooked his chin towards his roommate.

"She told him just before we came down; he didn't seem too surprised. But when I mentioned them marrying someone else, he just smirked. You know that look."

Harry rolled his eyes; yes, he knew the look. "Can we talk after dinner? Privately?"

"Have you heard something?"

"No, but since we don't know who's selling pictures to the _Prophet_ , I thought we should keep our heads down."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I agree. Where do you want to talk? Our common room is out; what about the Gryffindor common room?"

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and set his glass down carefully. "Gryffindor common room is pretty public. What about the Room of Requirement?"

"That works. 8:30?"

* * *

 _Outside the Room of Requirement_

 _8:30pm_

Harry leaned back on the wall, waiting on Hermione to arrive. He felt like he was in the middle of a Quidditch match, head on a swivel, checking for spying eyes, heart beating out of his chest. He nodded shortly to a pair of Ravenclaws, mentally encouraging them to move along. Thankfully, they complied with his mental admonitions. He wasn't so lucky with the next pair. _Who's that coming? Please don't be Felicia, no Felicity, and her friend. Bugger! It is them_. They stopped to talk.

"Harry! I haven't seen you in ages! What are you doing, waiting here?"

Running his hand through his already disheveled hair, he flashed a weak smile. "I'm, ugh, waiting on a friend."

"Really? Well, I was thinking, what do you think about going with me to the next Hogsmeade weekend? Just the two of us, this time?" The Ravenclaw batted her eyelashes rapidly, straightening her spine to thrust out her chest.

"Well, uh, I - "

"Harry! There you are!" Hermione arrived just in time and took in the situation at a glance. He turned towards her with a pleading expression in his eyes and an outstretched hand.

"Hermione - you're here. You remember, Felicity and her friend, umm…"

Instead of taking his hand, Hermione slipped under Harry's arm, placing her right hand on his chest and encircling his waist with her left arm. All he had to do was drop his arm across her shoulders, and they presented a very cozy picture for Felicity and Emmaline.

"Yes, I remember them. We all went to Hogsmeade several weeks ago. It's so good to see you both." With a broad and very un-Hermione-like smile, she turned her attention to Harry, looking up at him. "Should we go now?"

"Yeah, of course, whatever you want." Harry nodded to the Ravenclaws. "It was nice to see you both." He turned them and headed in the opposite direction. After they were out of earshot he muttered, "Shit, the RoR is out. Where can we go to talk without a bunch of listening ears?"

"We can try the Astronomy Tower."

"I really hate the Astronomy Tower."

"True. Let me think for a minute." Hermione mused, seemingly unaware that she was still tucked under his arm. For his part, Harry was in no hurry to break apart, and kept his arm firmly around her shoulders.

"The abandoned classroom on the fifth floor?"

"Yeah, we can try there." They made their way companionably down the moving stairs to the disused room in question. Harry reluctantly broke apart from Hermione and slowly opened the door. He froze and blinked rapidly. "No, don't mind me. Just leaving."

He closed the door and turned to face Hermione, face flushed in embarrassment. "Nope. Not abandoned. Got any other suggestions?"

She giggled. "Who was it?"

He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, trying to scrub the image from his retinas. " ?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Anywhere else?"

"Uh, the Restricted Section?"

"Sounds perfect; lead on." _As long as I don't have to see my ex-girlfriend in another compromising position, I'm good with anywhere._

Unfortunately, the third time was not the charm. No sooner had they settled into chairs than Hermione nudged a stray book lying on the floor with her foot. The book opened, screaming: "Mud-blood! Traitor! Filth! How dare you touch me!"

Madame Pince's rat-tat-tat footsteps sounded as she moved down the aisle. Hermione and Harry barely escaped detection.

"Bloody hell. We're cursed," Harry swore. "Let's try the kitchens. They'll at least be warm, and what's the worst that can happen? A couple of Hufflepuffs arguing over recipes?"

And sure enough, in the kitchens, three Hufflepuffs were arguing over recipes. Dobby popped over, wearing one of the hats Hermione had knitted for him. "Master Harry! Missy Hermione! How can Dobby help you?"

Seeing that a private conversation wasn't going to be possible, Hermione asked for a plate of finger foods to take back to the Eighth tower. As they waited, they listened to the Hufflepuffs debating the merits of cream for some unknown recipe.

"No, I'm telling you, double cream would be better."

"You're crazy. Single cream would make it fluffier."

"Clearly we need whipping cream."

Dobby reappeared moments later with a tray laden with sandwiches, fruit, and cheese. "Will this be enough? Dobby can get more."

"No, thank you Dobby, this more than perfect." Harry accepted the tray. They nodded to the serious Hufflepuffs as they headed for the door. "Eighths?" As they walked, he continued, "You know, this really sucks. I need to talk to you, and I don't think we'll get any privacy."

"If Daphne's out, we can sit in my room. Or yours if Draco's off with Luna."

When the portrait door swung open, Harry groaned. Except Blaise, Neville, Daphne, and Draco, they were all here, sprawled in the leather chairs and two-seaters. There were even a few 6th and 7th years sprinkled amongst them. _Great, even Boot is here._

"Oi! Harry! Hermione. Come over and play a game of Exploding Snap." Justin waved for them to come over and then noticed the tray. "Is that food? I'm famished." He got up and came to inspect the tray.

"Here - take it." Harry handed it over without complaint.

"Let's just go to my room or yours," Hermione murmured in his ear.

"Mine's closer."

Before they could make the right turn to head to Harry's room, Terry intercepted them. "Listen, Hermione, I was wondering if you and I could - " Harry straightened and set his jaw, sending the other wizard a warning look. He abruptly changed tack. "Uh, if you and I could collaborate on the Arithmancy project due next week?"

"Sure! I was thinking that I wanted to look at the implications of the Arithmantic equations in relation to -"

Harry quickly realized he was going to lose her if he didn't stop her. "Hermione. Did you want to have that conversation?"

"Right, right. Terry - let's talk tomorrow, okay?"

Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her to his room, firmly shut the door behind him and closed out the wolf-whistles. He briefly considered reopening it to send out a generalized two-finger salute, but opted for locking it and casting a _Muffliato_. Twice.

When he turned around, Hermione, already seated on the edge of his bed, was looking at him as if he'd grown two heads.

"One would have done the trick, you know," she said wryly.

He shrugged. "It never hurts to be sure."

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

He took a deep breath and began pacing the room, much like she had not too terribly long ago. _Where to to start?_ "You know I love you. And that I'd do anything for you."

"Of course; you're my best friend." She smiled. "I don't see why you needed to pull me aside to tell me that."

"I don't want to you leaving the Wizarding World," he blurted out. "And I'd do anything for you." _Dammit, I already said that._

"So you said," she answered, a bit more slowly this time. _Oh Godric, where is he going with this? For the love of all that is holy, don't ask me out because you want to protect me. I won't stand for that._ "Umm, where are you going with this?"

Outside the door, several students were gathered, trying to listen in. But thus far, nothing. A cold voice had them spinning around, trying to act innocent.

"That's my room, you plebs. Get away from my door," Draco sneered.

"But…" Justin stammered.

Pansy purred as she rubbed her hand up his arm, "But Draco, Harry is in there with Hermione. And we want to know what they're saying."

Draco absentmindedly brushed off her hand as he made some quick mental calculations. He walked to the door, and it opened for him immediately; it was his room too after all. He walked in and slammed the door, but his classmates got a quick view of Hermione seated cross-legged on Harry's bed with Harry standing up, several feet away, hands shoved in the back pockets of his Muggle jeans. Both jerked their heads to the door as Draco entered. Altogether, it was a disappointing and brief sight for the curious 8th years.

"Oi, Potter, you've got a curious audience out here. They want to know what you two are doing in a muffled room." Draco stopped dead inside the door. "I'd say you had about two more minutes before someone got their Extendable Ears."

"Bloody, buggering, hell, what does it take to have a private conversation in this damn castle?" Harry spat out.

"Did you try the RoR?" Draco suggested dryly.

"Of course we tried the RoR! But those two Ravenclaws Felicia and Emmie, they were there. We couldn't go in!" Harry snarled. "Then we tried the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor and Blaise was with Ginny and they were - ugh - I don't want to talk about it, so we tried the Restricted Section of the library, but there was some bloody book screeching at us about being Mudbloods and filth, so we tried the kitchens, but no, the fucking Hufflepuffs were arguing over whipping cream. It's too damn cold for the stone bridge, and I'll be damned if I go back to the Astronomy Tower -."

A knock on the door interrupted Harry's tirade. He stalked over to the door and yanked it open. "What?" When his vision cleared, he recognized Neville and Daphne standing on the other side of the door. "Neville. Daph. Sorry. Come on in. Join the party." He waved his hand and glared at the remaining 8th years loitering by the door.

"Well you can't blame us for being curious, Harry!"

Hermione jumped up and crossed the room. "Don't start, Padma, don't start." She'd had enough. "This is ridiculous. I'd rather still be living in a tent right now."

"Living in a tent? Salazar's shorts, when did you live in a tent?" Pansy trilled.

"Oh, nevermind. It was just a turn of phrase," Hermione snapped.

"Well, that must be a Muggle turn of phrase because I've never heard it." Pansy sniffed. "And, if you're going to be so unfriendly, I'm just going to leave. " She flipped her hair over her shoulder, spun around, and flounced off in a huff.

Harry cocked his head to the side and to no one in particular, "Do you think she realizes she's in the wrong here?"

Draco, however, decided to answer the rhetorical question. "In the entire time I've known her, Pansy has never admitted to being in the wrong. Ever." He turned from watching his Housemate's progress across the room. "How long do you two need? Longbottom and I will keep these Nosey Nellies away from the door." Their classmates had the grace to look abashed. "And you owe me, Potter."

"Give us half an hour." Harry rolled his eyes. "Any longer and there'll be reports in the Prophet."

Finally, they were alone. Neville and Draco stood outside the silenced door to keep their curious classmates at bay.

Inside, Harry and Hermione started over again, this time with Harry sitting beside her.

"What did you need to talk about Harry?"

He took a deep breath. "I want to date you. Nothing fake. I really want to give us a chance."

Joy, pure unadulterated joy, swept through Hermione. _He said it. He wanted to date her._ And those insecurities that occasionally plagued _every_ teen girl, war heroine or not, reared their ugly heads. _But why?_ Before she could blurt out her question, he continued.

"It's not because of all this rubbish in papers. I was going to say something earlier, but I wasn't sure how you felt, and then the thing with Sirius and your parents, and the timing was never right. Hell, I'm not sure it's right now. But I love you, I've loved you for years. And I've never felt this way for anyone else." He paused for breath. "Please say something."


	14. Chapter 14

**Beta Love:** Glitterally (thank you, my friend, thank you.)

 **Disclaimer:** HP and the HP universe are the property of JKR and her assigns. I make no money from the penning and posting of this story.

* * *

 **Ch. 14**

 _Sunday Evening_

 _Room 1, Eighths Tower_

" _It's not because of all this rubbish in papers. I was going to say something earlier, but I wasn't sure how you felt, and then the thing with Sirius and your parents, and the timing was never right. Hell, I'm not sure it's right now. But I love you; I've loved you for years, and I've never felt this way for anyone else." He paused for breath. "Please say something."_

Hermione blinked rapidly to clear the tears in her eyes and threw her arms around his neck. "Yes, please."

"You mean it?" She nodded against his neck, tears trickling out. "Wait, don't cry; why are you crying? What did I do? I take it back. We can just be friends if that's what you want."

She shook her head against his neck and pulled back, sniffling. "No, no. I don't want you to take it back. I just have all these emotions welling up inside me and I'm trying to figure out what's real and not real."

"This is real, Hermione, I promise. I know my feelings for you; they've been real for years."

"What about all this?" she gestured to her eyes and hair.

"What about it? You were beautiful before, and you're beautiful now. You were one of my best friends when we were scared first years up against a three-headed dog and a mountain troll. You _never_ left me, ever. I didn't just kiss you in that tent to make you feel better; I did it because I couldn't help it anymore. The only thing that breaking the spell on you did was make me recognize you on an even deeper level."

"The press is going to go nuts."

"So? They do that anyway. Better to be hanged as a lion than a lamb."

Hermione sent him a watery smile and found her inner lion that had so resembled a newborn kitten for the last few weeks. "I love you, too. And I wanted to say something, but once all this happened with the press blindsiding us and then the spell...I just didn't know if you'd want to deal with all that." She sniffed a bit and wiped her eyes. "And I was scared you'd turn me down. Plus, you went out with that Ravenclaw."

"Are you crazy? I only went out with her because you'd just been asked out by Draco and you'd friend-zoned me. I didn't know what else to do." Harry tucked one of her stray curls behind her ear and looked into her eyes. "And then she was so bitchy to you that even I could see it. I regretted the whole fiasco."

As he leaned closer, Hermione's breath caught. "I -"

"You gave me hope." His lips brushed softly over hers.

"When?" she whispered, tilting her head.

"When you said _my_ name at the Halloween masque." The hand in her hair now cupped the back of her head, and he pressed his lips to hers. Hermione melted against his chest and slipped her arms around him. Finally, she was tucked into the warmth and strength that she would forever associate with Harry. His kiss was a sweet burn, and she moaned softly when he pulled her even closer, pressing their chests together. It was better than any kiss they'd shared before: the tent, the game, the Masque. There was no fear of rejection, no audience, just them and the honesty of the emotion they shared.

"Thank Godric. I've waited so long," Harry muttered against her lips. His hands slid down her back, learning her contours, as his tongue swept inside her mouth to tangle with hers. Hermione held onto him tightly, hands caught in his hair. He slipped his hand beneath her jumper to feel her warm, smooth skin and groaned. He pushed her back onto the pillows of his bed and fell forward over her. They were so wrapped up in each other they didn't hear the knock at the door.

"Don't mind us." Neville's voice doused them with cold water.

They froze. "Bloody hell, Neville. Have you ever heard of knocking?" Harry growled as he helped Hermione sit up and straighten their rumpled clothes.

"Oh good, you've got that sorted out. And we _did_ knock. Now, can you two go somewhere else so I can get some rest? Besides, you can't be in here much longer before the _Prophet_ gets wind of it," Draco answered acerbically.

* * *

 _Monday Morning_

 _The Great Hall_

"Oh buggering hell."

Hermione heard Neville's mutter as she and Harry settled across from him at the table. "What's wrong?"

Wordlessly, Neville handed over his copy of the Prophet. It was opened to the Society section. "What in hell?"

 _A Marriage Contract?_

 _As our devoted readers will no doubt remember, the infamous Sirius Black, current head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black threatened his daughter, Hermione Black (formerly Granger) and his godson, Harry Potter (the Boy Who Lived, son of the late James and Lily Potter) with enforcing a contract in his recent Howler to the students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Owls to the couple and to Mr. Black were unanswered. However, Ministry records indicate that Mr. Black and the late Mr. James Potter signed a betrothal contract for their children in early 1981 with the provision that either of the signing parties could void the contract. The contract is of the boilerplate style that has been favored by Pureblood families for generations with very few alterations._

 _Generally speaking, Pureblood families have kept wealth concentrated amongst several elite families, primarily the so-called Sacred Twenty-Eight. The Potters were somewhat famously left off the list in the 1930s but are widely believed to have been a Pureblood family until James Potter married Lily Potter nee Evans, a Muggle-born in his year at Hogwarts. Their young son, Harry, was the sole survivor of a brutal attack by Voldemort._

 _Young Mr. Potter and Miss Black have been close friends since their first years at Hogwarts; they were romantically linked in their fourth year while Mr. Potter was competing for the Tri-Wizard Championship. More recently, they appear to have re-kindled their relationship. Will Mr. Black insist that these two marry following their time at school? It is worth noting that both Miss Black and Mr. Potter were raised in the Muggle world; neither have indicated a willingness to fulfill the terms of this legally binding contract. As previously noted, Mr. Black has the power to void this contract. Miss Black has never fit the mold of a Pureblood, so one can only imagine her reaction to his Howler to Mr. Potter following her indiscretion at the Halloween Masque. As yet, we have no indication who the masked wizard may have been._

 _Also of note: a contract using the same format as the Potter/Black one was drawn up for Mr. Draco Malfoy and Miss Daphne Greengrass, also so-called "Eighth" year students at Hogwarts. Neither the Greengrass nor Malfoy families were willing to comment on the contract. A search of Ministry records revealed no further contracts for any other classmates of Mr. Potter and Miss Black._

 _Our legal expert, a managing partner of the firm of Northup and Slope, Obadiah Slope, says that both contracts are viable and enforceable. "These contracts are not unusual for this generation. What remains to be seen is if this current crop of young witches and wizards continue the tradition of arranging marriages. After all, they [the arranged marriages] have stood these families in good stead for generations. Although, with the late unpleasantness revolving around the notion of blood purity, we may well see a shift in priorities by these couples."_

 _Indeed, we will report as these stories develop. Check the Prophet first for engagement announcements!_

"I could kill him, Harry. I could kill him." Hermione's gritted teeth gave her words a hissing sound.

"So could I." He pushed his glasses up on his nose as he finished reading the article over her shoulder.

"When we ever decide to get married, we're not announcing it in the Prophet." Hermione set the paper aside and scooped eggs onto her plate. "We can tell the Quibbler instead."

Harry's toast paused midway to his mouth at her words. He set it down carefully. "When?"

She blushed. "Err, if. I meant to say _if_ we decide to get married."

A glint appeared in his eye, and a smile tugged at his lips. "Oh."

Neville reached over and waved the folded newssheet in front of them. "Oi! Lovebirds! What are you going to do about this?" He jabbed a long finger at the article. "It's not just about the two of you anymore."

Hermione felt her stomach drop as she pushed her eggs around on her plate. _He's right. It isn't just about us. Daphne and Draco might have serious fall-out over this article_. She turned around to look at Daphne who was staring, white-faced, at the offending newspaper. The pretty blonde looked up slowly and met Hermione's eyes across the tables. She shook her head slightly and cut a glance at Draco just two seats down. He sat expressionless, ignoring the ebb and flow of the conversation around him. When she looked towards Harry, he was turning back around to face Neville and the Gryffindor table.

"What do you think, Neville?" he asked quietly.

"What do I think? I think we need to kick Sirius in the arse," Neville hissed. "This shit is his fault. I can't believe he signed a contract with your dad in the first fucking place; then he had to shout about it so the entire Hall heard." He crumpled the offending paper, disgusted. "Those bleeding reporters never would have gone looking if he'd kept his mouth shut."

Hermione nudged him with her foot, looking around the table. Breakfast in the Great Hall was unusually quiet and Neville's voice carried, despite his effort to keep it down. She jerked her head in the direction of the entrance. "Let's go."

Before she could outdistance them both, Neville and Harry each grabbed apples and followed her towards the D.A.D.A. classroom, shutting the door behind them.

"Listen, we don't have much time. I hope Draco and Daphne took the hint and are coming to meet us." Hermione paced the floor, waving off the apple Harry offered to her. "Neville, you're right. This is Sirius's fault, but we've got to handle the fallout. I don't think it matters so much for Harry and me, but the Malfoys and the Greengrasses might dig their heels in now that the contract is public knowledge."

An aristocratic drawl interrupted her. "There's no 'might' about it, Granger." Draco and Daphne slipped in and closed the door, this time muffling the room. "And we've got maybe fifteen minutes before Weasley gets here."

"My parents are going to have a litter of Kneazles," Daphne groaned. "They do _not_ like to be in the papers."

"Bottom line, Granger. Is the only way out marrying someone else?"

A genuine look of remorse on her face, Hermione nodded shortly. "I can't find anything else, and even that's a gray area. When I dug deeper, I found that setting yourselves up independently won't work. It's either your parents call it off or you find a way to make it illegal to enforce it -and marrying someone else would make it illegal."

"I can't go home for the winter hols; I can't. My mum is going to want to plan the wedding," Daphne said quietly from her seat. "She was already freaked out about me walking off at the Masque with some unknown wizard, so she's going to want to set things in stone."

"So don't," Hermione said. "I'm going to stay here. It might be fun."

"We can all stay," Harry piped up. "Make it an Eighths thing."

Neville spoke for the first time since Daphne and Draco's arrival. "That's not a bad idea; we can say we're doing internships for professors. But Gran is throwing her annual New Year's bash this year, and I've got to go to that." He paused. "But you all can come. I'd really like the company." He was speaking to everyone but looked only at Daphne.

"I don't see any advantage to my being here."

"Drake, please," Daphne implored. "My parents will be better about it if you're here."

"Uh, have you thought to just tell your parents you don't want to marry each other?" Neville asked.

No one had a chance to answer because Professor Weasley walked in and stopped abruptly. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, of course not!" Hermione smiled. "We were just talking about plans for the winter hols." She shot her classmates an altogether unnecessary warning glance.

"Uh huh. Of course not. I'm sure you weren't discussing the article in this morning's Prophet at all and any impact it might have on your holiday plans."

The Gryffindors flushed. Disgusted, Draco took over. "As you say, Professor. My classmates were thinking of offering their assistance with final renovations and readying the castle for the second term."

"Are you so anxious to return home, Mr. Malfoy?" Bill unpacked his bag, readying for their class. "I'd think you'd want to avoid Lucius for a bit; is he happy with you appearing in the paper two weeks in a row. Isn't he trying to rehabilitate the Malfoy name?"

"Well, if you note, _I_ haven't been the focus of those articles. It's been mostly Potter and Granger. Daphne just managed to get her picture taken in a compromising situation."

Neville made an aborted move toward Draco, which was stopped by Daphne's hand on his arm.

"Draco, stop being an ass. I explained to my parents that all the eighth years were costumed identically."

A smile flashed across the Professor's face. "How very convenient for you."

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

 _Grimmauld Place_

Kate sighed heavily and folded the Prophet by her plate. _Sirius won't handle this well. Or maybe he'll surprise me_. She smiled when the wizard in question leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Good morning, my lovely. Have I told you how much I enjoy having you with me? Are you sure I can't talk you into moving in with me?"

She turned and smiled. "I'm sure." After pressing a soft kiss to his lips, she continued, "you need to see today's paper."

"Did they find the contract?" He winced at her nod. "Hermione's going to be pissed."

"You think?" A very un-Hufflepuff like smirk crossed her face. "You know you brought this round on yourself. You can't blame either of them for this one."

Another wince. "No, I don't suppose I can. But if they'd just be more discreet, I wouldn't have been so angry. What was she thinking, leaving the Masque and snogging Harry?"

"Sirius." She sounded disappointed. "I love you, but you don't always think before you act. And this one is on you. How are you going to make it right?" Kate crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot impatiently. She could see the wheels turning in that handsome, reckless head of his.

"Fine. I'll tear it up. I'll void it."

"That's my smart man." She uncrossed her arms and ran her fingers through his hair. "Do you want me to draw up a notice to the paper for you?"

"Please."

"And Sirius, you need to owl Hermione and Harry, let them know _before_ it appears in the paper."

* * *

 _Monday Evening_

 _Eighths Tower_

Harry entered the Eighths Tower after Quidditch practice, sweaty, sore, and muddy thanks to an errant Bludger sent his way. Fortunately, he was fairly low to the ground when the blasted thing almost knocked him off his broom, prompting an emergency landing in a mud puddle. _That's what I get for daydreaming about my girlfriend instead of paying attention!_ Glancing around the room at his classmates studying, he noticed the object of his affections was nowhere to be found. Shrugging, he decided to get cleaned up; maybe she'd be back by then.

But thirty minutes later Hermione was still absent. Harry headed to her favorite spot, a window seat in the back of the library. He permitted himself a small grin when he found her curled up with a book in her lap, reading for pleasure rather than content. He could tell because she only had the book and no quill or notebook for taking notes. Hermione _always_ took notes when she was revising. He slipped silently to her side and whispered in her ear, "Whatcha reading?"

Startled, Hermione slammed the book and slipped it between her leg and the window. "Uh, nothing. Just a, umm, Muggle studies book. Just a bit of light reading. How was Quidditch practice?"

Harry leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss over her lips while reaching for the book. Hermione was faster than he was, tucking it behind her.

"Muggle studies, you say?" He grinned, their faces still close together. "Can I talk you into a bit of a snogging session instead?"

"We're in the library," Hermione's eyes widened, scandalized. "We can't snog in the library! That's practically sacrilege!"

Harry laughed quietly at her outraged expression. "I knew you were going to say that. But seriously, come with me. If you're done with your light reading and all. I want to hang out with my girlfriend and talk. Not whisper. Talk. And maybe snog a bit."

"Honestly, Harry." She shook her head, but gathered up her bag and headed to the Restricted Section to return her book.

Harry couldn't help but notice her destination. _Muggle studies in the Restricted Section? I doubt that._ He hooked her bag over his shoulder and held out his hand. "Ready?" As they walked out of the library, he continued, "I thought we'd try the RoR again. Maybe our luck will be better tonight." He winced. "Hope we don't run into the Ravenclaws again."

"I hear Felicity is dating Michael Corner now, so I think we'll be safe." Hermione flashed a grin at him. "They'll probably be in Ravenclaw tower, maybe snogging in front of their fire." She paused and then continued, "You know, I always wonder about those Ravenclaws."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the Ravenclaws are always curious about things and intellectual pursuits. I wonder how far they go with that."

"Ohhh. Well, you know what Gryffindor Tower was like: Spin the Bottle, Truth or Dare, I Never." Harry laughed softly remembering some of the good times before things turned so wrong. "What about the Hufflepuffs? Think they have fun like that?"

"Well, the Hufflepuffs are so helpful, you know. If you phrased it right, they'd probably do anything to help or make you feel better." Hermione smiled again. "I can't even imagine what the Slytherin common room looks like, much less them playing games and experimenting."

"The Common Room? Well, it's got a really cool view into the lake, but it felt kind of uncomfortable to me. I just kept imagining the glass breaking and the room flooding. Ron said the same thing." Harry paused, remembering back to second year. "And there were archways and dark furniture. It wasn't comfortable like Gryffindor. Seemed more formal, somehow. But I got the feeling those walls held secrets; you know what I mean?"

When they arrived at the Room of Requirement, Harry paced back and forth quickly and the door appeared, simple and unremarkable. Inside, there was a cheery fire with an oversized chair and ottoman positioned in front of it. He set her bag beside the chair and quickly pulled her down beside him, with her legs draped across his and his arm around her shoulders. "Perfect. Just the right size, like a chair and a half."

Hermione, uncharacteristically silent, leaned into his shoulder and hugged him close. She looked up at him. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the chair. "Did you want to talk?" she asked softly.

He brought his head up and looked into her serious eyes. "I think we need to, yeah?"

"About the contract?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

Harry blinked rapidly and debated how to answer. "I don't ever want to imagine my life without you in it. And this thing between us - I don't want to rush it. But it just feels right, like, this is how it's always meant to be. So, _when_ ," his eyes glinted in amusement as he echoed her word from the morning's breakfast, "we decide to get married, I want it to be because _we_ want to get married, not when a contract says we should."

"He'll tear it up, won't he?"

"I know Sirius pretty well. Yeah, he'll void it. He said he would. The only question is when. If he hadn't sent that bloody Howler…."

She winced at the memory. "I know. I'm not sure what he was thinking."

"He wasn't," Harry stated baldly. "His impulse control has gotten better, but when he gets angry, he flies off the handle really quickly. I hope his new girlfriend can help him tone it down, level him out a bit." He met her eyes. "Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive him?"

She started to pull back, but Harry wasn't having it. "No, no, please stay with me." She relaxed against his chest. "Talk to me."

"Maybe." Her voice was slightly muffled against the fabric of his shirt. "I think I might be able to forgive him for all of it, but he's got to give me some space. Let me breathe. Understand that I'm _not_ Catriona. Let me come to accept all of this in my own time. Understand that I'm going to be my own person. And _if_ we decide to ever get married, it will be because we want to, not because some contract says we should." Her head came up. "Can we snog now?"

"Far be it from me to disappoint you." Harry leaned down punctuated each word with a soft kiss on her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, and finally her lips. With his final kiss, their lips met and held. They were done talking for the time being.

* * *

A/N: Rest in peace, Alan Rickman. Obadiah Slope is my nod to this talented actor. *Wands up


	15. Chapter 15

**Beta love:** glitterally. She's truly invaluable. Thank you, my friend!

* * *

 **Ch. 15**

 _Tuesday Morning_

 _The Great Hall_

Hermione yawned as she poured herself a cup of tea.

"Still having trouble sleeping, Hermione?" Harry asked as he filled his cup with coffee.

Hermione took a fortifying sip and nodded. "Yes. It's better. No terrors anymore. I think they were so bad because we'd just gotten back here and those charms on me were starting to fail. But I'm still waking up every hour or two."

He winced. "That's terrible. When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?"

"I don't even remember. What about you?" She noticed the dark smudges under his eyes.

"Honestly? When we fell asleep in the common room."

The morning post arrived just on time. Hermione caught the letter from a familiar owl and stifled a groan when she saw Sirius's scrawl. "Harry, it's from Sirius."

"What?" He looked up, frowning.

"I got a letter - from Sirius. What's wrong? Who wrote you?"

"It's actually for the both of us. But what did Sirius say?"

"Hold on." She read it aloud.

 _Dearest Hermione,_

 _I'm writing to let you know I've voided the marriage contract between you and Harry. If events had followed their normal course, I'm sure James and I would have arrived at this point anyway. You're free to marry whom you love, and I'll accept him - unless he's that git Malfoy or his friend Nott. No former Death Eaters. I prefer Harry when I'm thinking straight, but let me know if he hurts you. He won't ever do it again._

 _At any rate, I'm sending a notice round to the Prophet tomorrow, and I wanted you and Harry to know before you saw it there._

 _I'm sorry if my actions have caused you pain, but I can't be sorry for trying to protect you, even though I know you're a grown woman now._

 _Please pass this message along to Harry, although I'm sure he'll be mirroring me regardless._

 _Your affectionate father,_

 _Sirius Black_

A ghost of a smile passed over Harry's expression as he read the letter. "I told you he'd void it. Do you want to tell him about us? Or let him find out in the Prophet?"

"Tell him. It'll be better that way. Now, what's that letter you have? I don't recognize the owl." Hermione waved her hand to the owl waiting expectantly for a reply.

His brow furrowed and he picked up the offending letter. "It's from the Prophet, asking both of us for comment on Sirius and his new girlfriend."

"Seriously?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded. "Seriously."

"Oh good grief." Hermione contemplated her next move. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to tell them to bugger off."

"Not sure how well that'll play in the papers…." her voice trailed off. A moment later, she beckoned imperiously. "Let me have the letter." He handed it to her and watched as she dug out a quill and wrote on the bottom.

" _No comment at this time_." _Hermione C. Black._

"Write what you like," she said as she handed him the quill.

" _No comment at this time." Harry J. Potter._

They attached the letter and sent the news-owl on his way.

Neville watched this entire exchange with a quizzical look on his face. "Why'd you write it separately?"

"Are you mad? Us sending them a _joint_ statement?"

"I see your point." He nodded. "Might be too much. Are you going to tell them you're dating now?"

"Why would we?" Hermione asked. "They don't need an announcement of anything unless it's an engagement or marriage. So if - "

"When," Harry interjected.

" _If_ we decide to get married, we might announce it in the Quibbler, but not the Prophet." Hermione carried on as if she hadn't been interrupted. "Why are you two laughing?"

"No reason, no reason at all." Harry made an effort to school his features. "So, are we in the Prophet today?"

Neville grinned again. "No, but your godfather is." He flipped the paper around to show a picture of Sirius and Kate sitting in an obviously Muggle restaurant, sharing a brief kiss.

"Of all the nerve!" Hermione's eyes widened. "I'm going to send a Howler! How dare he lecture us on propriety when he - umf!"

Harry stopped her tirade by virtue of pressing his lips to hers. Silence fell at the Gryffindor table. He pulled back, smiled, and whispered, "Better to be hanged as a lion than a lamb, right?" He turned back towards the table and looked around expectantly as he picked up his fork. "So, are we looking forward to classes today?"

* * *

 _Wednesday Afternoon_

 _Prof. Trallop's Classroom_

"Good afternoon." The professor viewed her charges from the front of the room. "Today, we need to address something that we've been avoiding. The hippogriff in the room, so to speak. We need to talk about the war."

Only the Slytherins managed to hide their discomfort. Harry and Hermione exchanged a speaking glance.

 _How much do we say?_

 _As little as possible._

"So, who would like to start?" Professor Trallop prompted. "Anyone?"

Silence.

"No one?"

"I was here at school." Pansy spoke up. "It was very quiet with so many people gone. And then, when the Order invaded and the Dark Lord arrived, it was very frightening."

"Quiet. Right. That's exactly how I'd describe being crucioed in the halls." Neville snorted derisively.

"Oh come now, Neville, it wasn't that bad," Pansy chided.

"Are you blind or daft, Parkinson? Did you even leave the Slytherin dungeon at all? Half-bloods and anyone suspected of sympathizing with Harry were tortured regularly."

"It's true, they were." Daphne spoke up. "Blaise, you remember." The tall Slytherin nodded shortly. "I'm sorry I didn't help, but I didn't know what to do." She twisted her hands in her lap. "I know it doesn't really matter, but I came back with Professor Slughorn to fight, to help."

"No, that matters," Harry spoke up. "I can't imagine living here last year under the Carrows. It had to have been a nightmare."

"Where were you, Harry?" Professor Trallop asked.

"That's actually - "

"Classified," Hermione interjected. "Classified by the Ministry for Magic."

Harry's face cleared. "Yeah, she's right. That's classified."

"But we were both here at the final battle when Pansy tried to turn Harry over to Voldemort."

"We? So, you were with Mr. Potter, Miss Black?"

Hermione blinked. "At the final battle, absolutely, I was with Harry."

"You said something about living in a tent the other night."

"Don't try to change the subject, Pansy. You were the _only_ one who wanted to turn Harry over to Voldemort."

"Hermione." Harry reached over and squeezed her hand. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. She tried to betray you!"

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "You've got to calm down or you'll give away more than you want."

"Mr. Potter, I'm sure the entire class would like to hear what you had to say to Miss Black."

"No, ma'am. With all due respect, I'm not going to discuss last year with you."

"You do realize this is a Ministry-approved program, Mr. Potter. You may be able to refuse to talk about last year under the guise of 'classified' for the whole group, but I can require you to talk to me in private." She stared at him, unblinking.

He froze, assailed by a sensation as unpleasant as it was familiar. _She's trying to get in my head. No._ "You're welcome to try, Professor." Blood drained from his face as he threw up roadblocks, trying to keep her from seeing anything.

Hermione sat motionless as she watched the emotions play across his face. His hand went up in an involuntary motion, touching the scar.

"Professor, Harry isn't feeling well. I'm going to take him to Madame Pomfrey." Without waiting for permission, she collected both their bags and pulled him from the room.

Harry's body relaxed the moment the door closed behind him.

"What just happened?"

"She's a Legilimens. She tried to get in my head, see my thoughts." He took a deep cleansing breath. "I think I blocked her. She's almost as strong as Voldemort, stronger than Snape."

Hermione gasped. "I knew we couldn't trust her. Professor McGonagall isn't going to like this, Harry." Hermione's teeth worried her bottom lip as they headed toward their tower. "We should go talk to Bill."

"Why?"

"Because, Harry, he can help us. We _did_ just walk out of class, and she just tried to _violate your mind_. Now come on." She pulled his arm guiding him to the correct staircase. "I think he's got 7th year Defense right now."

They loitered outside of their Head of House's classroom until he dismissed class.

"Harry, Hermione! Why are you here?" Ginny stopped to talk.

"We had a bit of a problem in Professor Trallop's class, so we decided to come talk to Professor Weasley."

" _You_ had a problem in class? Him" - Ginny pointed to Harry - "I can believe, but you? No."

"She wanted to talk about last year and where we were and what we did. _All_ of us."

"I can see why that would be a problem." Bill's voice interrupted Hermione before she could continue. "I'll see you in a bit, Ginny. Why don't you two come in and tell me what happened?"

Ten minutes later, Bill steepled his fingers and looked off in the distance. "So you just walked out, the both of you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're sure she was attempting to use Legilimency?"

"With all due respect, I know when someone is trying to read my mind, Professor." Harry's tone was biting. "I did live with Voldemort in my head for years."

The internal Floo activated. "Professor Weasley, I need to speak with you." McGonagall's disembodied head floated in the fire.

"Yes, Headmistress; I was just talking with Mr. Potter and Miss Black."

"Excellent; they had the good sense to come to you after storming out of class today."

"We did not - " Harry stopped abruptly when Bill's pointer finger flew up in the universal symbol to be quiet.

"Rest assured, I will deal with the members of my House, Professor. However, given the amount of attention these two have gotten over the past few months, perhaps it would be better for them to refrain from having conversations about classified events with those not authorized to hear it. Is Professor Trallop with you now?"

"Yes, she is." McGonagall stopped. "Regardless, she is attempting to help these students work through severe trauma. Perhaps the occasional outburst can be forgiven. I will let her know you are handling their punishment."

The Floo flared once again, and she was gone.

"You two will report to detention with me from 8 to 9 each night this week. And I'll make sure the Headmistress is here so you can tell her what happened yourself. Now, off you both go, and avoid Trallop at all costs."

"But Professor, what if she tries to make us tell her about last year? If anyone finds out we lived together unchaperoned, it'll be a disaster," Hermione objected.

"As I said, Hermione. _Avoid her_. If you can't, I need you both to stick to the 'it's classified' line. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll see you both here tonight. Bring your homework."

* * *

 _8pm_

 _Professor Weasley's Classroom & Office_

Hermione and Harry sat, hands intertwined, waiting for Professor Weasley to arrive with the Headmistress.

"I can't believe she did that, Harry. I knew we couldn't trust her."

"I know." Harry rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand.

"We need to tell everyone; they need to be able to protect themselves."

"We'll begin Occlumency lessons tomorrow," Bill said from the door. "I'm starting with the students in sixth year."

"Where's the Headmistress?"

"She's been called away for an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot. Apparently, there were major problems with the census taken after the war."

"Problems? What kind of problems?"

"I'm not sure, Hermione. But when I went to tell her I needed her to speak with the two of you tonight, she assured me that she'd be back tomorrow and meet with you both then. Now, do your homework. At nine, head back to your rooms. I can only urge you to be cautious if you decide to tell anyone about today."

They watched as he left the room. "Who do we tell? Anyone?" Hermione asked.

"I need to talk to Sirius." His voice was quiet. "As pissed as I get at him, he's still the closest thing I have to a father."

"Then we'll mirror him when we get back. Hopefully, he'll be home." Hermione pulled out her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. "In the meantime, can you help me with Occlumency? It wouldn't hurt to practice before class tomorrow afternoon."

An hour later, they walked into their tower; there was no one waiting for them. Harry took a right turn and walked into his room, Hermione in tow. He stopped on a knut and turned around, blocking Hermione's view of the beds.

"Bloody hell, Potter, can't you knock?"

"Sorry, Malfoy, it _is_ my room, too, you know."

"Draco, don't be cross; I told you they'd be back soon."

"Luna? Is that you?" Hermione quickly ducked around her boyfriend. The blonde sat serenely on Draco's bed with the cover pulled up around her chest.

"Would you hand me my dress? Draco and I were just celebrating."

Hermione picked up the flowing dress off the floor and handed it to the Ravenclaw. "What are you celebrating?"

"We're getting married, of course."

"Luna! You weren't supposed to tell anyone!"

"Oh, Draco, you know Harry and Hermione won't tell, will you?" She turned back to them, utterly confident and serene despite her lack of clothes.

"Uh, no. Wait; I didn't know you were dating!"

"I like to keep my business out of the Prophet, Potter," Draco drawled.

"I'd like to keep mine out, too, but someone keeps telling them every fucking move I make. Do you have any ideas, Luna?" Harry snapped.

"I think we'll know soon, Harry."

He crossed the room and pulled the two-mirror from his nightstand. "Hermione and I need to make a call. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Knock next time!"

"Put your bloody scarf on the door handle, Malfoy!"

Hermione led the way to her room and walked in first to find Daphne at her desk, writing a letter. "Do you mind if Harry and I make a call from here?"

"Of course not. Do you need some privacy?"

Hermione hesitated. "No; you need to hear this anyway."

Harry held up the mirror. "Sirius. Are you there? Sirius." He waited, albeit impatiently, for his godfather to answer.

He appeared moments later. "Harry. What's wrong? Is Hermione okay?"

"Hermione's fine; she's here with me. I needed to talk to you."

Sirius visibly relaxed. "Sure. Sure."

"I'm not sure where to start." Harry breathed out a heavy sigh. "Today in class, my professor tried to use Legilimency on me."

"Excuse me? Was it Bill? During Defense?" His entire body tensed again at the unexpected news.

"No, it was our counseling class."

"What?" Kate's outraged voice sounded in the background and drowned out Daphne's gasp of shock.

"Our counseling class. She wanted to talk about the war, and when I told her that my year was classified, she tried to break in, to use Legilimency to find out what I was thinking."

Sirius felt rage. "I'm on my way."

"No, don't. We're meeting with McGonagall tomorrow night."

"Why not today?" he asked, indignant.

"She got called away for an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot."

"Kingsley did as well," Kate interjected. "But he's going to hear about this the second he gets back in the office."

"I'm not going to have my children violated that way, Deirdre Kathleen." Sirius turned to the witch at his side, the mirror tilting so Harry could see them both.

"You can't do anything up there." She placed her hand on his arm, and some of the tension left his shoulders. Hermione couldn't help but smile at the love on his face for the woman with him.

He looked back to the mirror. "Are you okay, Harry? Do you need me there? I can be there in less than hour. I mean it; I won't have have you abused that way anymore."

"No, I'm fine. Hermione and I left class and went straight to Bill. It just hurt a bit, but I think I blocked her from everything."

Sirius's jaw clenched when Harry mentioned physical pain. "What. is. her. name?"

"Zoe Trallop. She's a Ministry-approved counselor and studied at Beauxbatons. She spent the war in France." Hermione took over for Harry.

"And did she try to read you, Hermione?"

"No; I think she focused on Harry, but I don't know Occlumency at all. We've been working on it this evening while we were in detention."

"Detention?" His voice rose again. "You were in detention for leaving a class where the professor was trying to violate your minds?"

"If Professor Weasley was punishing us for skiving class, then she couldn't. We just used the time as study hall."

"This Trallop woman won't ever work in Britain again when I'm done with her. I'm going to keep the two-way with me, Harry. If you have any trouble tonight, call me."

* * *

 _Thursday Morning_

 _The Great Hall_

Athena landed, held out her leg for Harry to take the letter, waited expectantly for a treat, hooted in appreciation for the bacon, and took off to find her roost.

 _Harry,_

 _It's about time you asked her out. Glad to hear it. I'll be down for the match on Saturday against Ravenclaw, so you better win._

 _Ron_

"Ron's coming down for match," he told Hermione between bites of toast and eggs.

She smiled fleetingly as she went over her notes for the Arithmancy project. "Is he? Excellent! Be sure to tell Ginny."

"She never changes, does she?" Neville asked Harry.

"No. And I love her for it." Harry paused before continuing. "Did you talk to Daphne?"

"No, mate. Do I need to?"

Harry checked to make sure no one was paying them any attention and leaned closer. "It's about Trallop. We can talk this afternoon during our free hour."

* * *

 _Free Hour_

 _8th Tower, Room 1_

"She did _what_?" Neville shouted. "Did you block her?"

"Yeah, barely. She wasn't like Voldemort; she couldn't get in, but…."

"If she tries again, give her something, give her Quidditch memories, that's harmless. Just keep playing those on a loop." Draco's quiet voice interrupted their discussion.

"Is that how you do it?"

"No, but I trained with Death Eaters and lived with the Dark - Voldemort. If I didn't want to die or get my family killed, I had to be better at Occlumency. But what I told you to do is a start And you were able to throw her out, which is good, but if she had her wand," he shrugged, "it may have gotten ugly."

"Bill said he was going to start Occlumency training with all the older students."

"Good."

* * *

 _8pm_

 _Professor Weasley's Classroom & Office_

"She did what?" McGonagall asked with deadly calm.

"She attempted to use Legilimency to read my mind, to see what happened last year," Harry re-stated.

"And you could feel her doing this? Without your permission?"

"Yes. And she definitely didn't have permission."

"It was painful for him, Professor. I could see the blood drain out of his face. It looked like he used to look when Voldemort was trying to get in," Hermione added.

A furious McGonagall sat back in her chair and contemplated the two young adults in front of her. "I want proof, but unfortunately, none exists. However, you are both dismissed from her class, effective immediately. I will announce her class is optional to all levels, and once I speak with Kingsley, I will throw her out entirely." She stood to leave but stopped when Harry spoke again.

"Ah, about Kingsley: he may already know."

"How might that be? He was in a meeting with me all night and all day. I've only just returned."

"We were discussing the situation with Sirius, and Kingsley's personal assistant was there. She was, uh, unhappy, and planned to talk to him as soon as she saw him. I got the feeling she was going to be waiting on him at the office."

* * *

 _8pm_

 _Kingsley's Office at Ministry_

"She did what?" Kingsley's bass boomed across his office, startling the portraits awake.

"What? I was just taking a nap."

"Needed a bit of snooze."

"You're absolutely right…"

"Oh be quiet!" Kingsley admonished the former Ministers and Head Mugwumps. "Kate, please explain exactly what happened. Surely she didn't just try to invade his mind."

"Yes, sir, she did. This is Harry we're talking about. He knows when there's someone trying to get in his head."

"I want proof. Does McGonagall know?"

"I'm sure she does by now. Harry and Hermione were scheduled to meet with her during their detention for walking out of class. I was getting worried she wasn't going to make it back."

Kingsley shook his head. "We're in a mess. Voldemort almost destroyed us; I'm not sure how we're going to fix it." His expression firmed. "But this Trollop woman won't be allowed to continue with her counseling. I'll talk to Minerva this evening."

"Trallop."

"That's what I said: Trollop."

* * *

A/N: No, I'm not writing a Marriage Law. But I like marriage laws (I have one completed already, a Dramione called _Unity_ , and one in progress, an unpublished Harmony called _A Papercut and Old Parchment_ ) and I always think there'd have be an excellent reason to require people to marry. So...emergency meetings and census reports. I also had a reviewer who was very angry while reading this story; s/he accused me of writing a Marriage Law. Heh. No, this story isn't that. There is such a thing as too many tropes in one story.


	16. Chapter 16

**Beta love:** glitterally. She's posted a new LonGer called "Flailing in Love;" it's as fabulous as she is! Go read and review. _PHB_ will be waiting for you. :)

* * *

 **Ch. 16**

 _Friday Morning_

 _Harry & Hermione on the way to breakfast_

"What did Sirius say when you told him, about us, I mean?"

"Nothing much." Harry answered. "He just nodded. I think he's relieved, honestly." He juggled the two messenger bags he was carrying and held his hand out to her. "Hold my hand?"

They walked into the Great Hall, a united front. Hermione's eyes immediately went to the envelopes on virtually all the plates. The whispers grew around the Hall as more and more students read the contents.

 _Dear Students,_

 _Please be advised that all counseling classes are now optional. If you choose to drop this class, you will be awarded a free hour in its place. Please see your Head of House with any questions._

 _Best,_

 _Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress_

"Yes!" Dennis Creevy whooped.

From the Hufflepuff table, she heard someone ask rather loudly, "Blimey, what do you reckon happened? I hope everything's okay."

"Nice. I could use the extra study time; Weasley's class is killer," a Ravenclaw mentioned as he was passing on the way out the doors.

At the head table, Professor Trallop leaned over to address the Headmistress. "A word, if you would, Headmistress?"

"Certainly, Professor. I need to speak with you regardless; you're welcome to meet with me directly after breakfast in my office."

* * *

 _9:00am_

 _Headmistress's Office_

"With all due respect, Headmistress, I believe you owe me an explanation for all but cancelling my class."

"You're quite right, Professor. A student has accused you of attempting to use Legilimency to read his mind _without_ his permission. Perhaps you'd like to clarify that incident?"

"Don't be ridiculous! That violates the code of conduct for all therapists. I would never!"

"This isn't a student who would lie about something like this, Professor."

"Of course Potter would lie about something like this! He's been resistant to working through his trauma from the very beginning." Trallop's voice dropped and she continued confidentially, "he's much too influenced by young Miss Black and very traumatized by his entire childhood. I mean, can you imagine seeing your mother murdered in front of you, then the last few years with Voldemort coming back to power? He's simply not stable."

McGonagall ground her teeth together, forcing a calm facade. "I didn't say it was Mr. Potter. However, _if_ it was, whatever his childhood and adolescent traumas, he's survived and come through brilliantly. To be quite frank, I now believe it was a mistake to bring you here, and should I have to make the decision to trust him or you, I will always believe _him_. He's earned that, Professor."

"I'm the therapist appointed by the Minister for Magic himself. This isn't a school matter, anymore, McGonagall. I'll go to Minister Shacklebolt and have you removed!" Trallop sneered.

The Floo flared as she was finishing her threat. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sirius Black stood in front of the massive fireplace, brushing soot off their shoulders.

"No, don't let us interrupt, Professor, go ahead," Kingsley invited her to continue.

Trallop continued with her bluster. "Minister, I've been accused of a heinous crime. Apparently Harry Potter has accused me of attempting to illegally read his mind." She smiled ingratiatingly. "It's utter nonsense, of course. He's deeply disturbed; it's to be expected. Now that you're here, I'm sure we can get this misunderstanding cleared up in no time."

Kingsley's hand flew out to the side, stopping Sirius from charging the elegant woman seated in front of McGonagall's desk.

"Why you - " Sirius began.

"Just one moment, Mr. Black; let me handle this." Kingsley interrupted Sirius before he could formulate anything further. "Headmistress," he said, "perhaps you'd be so good as to give your side of the events."

"Certainly, Minister. Professor Trallop has been accused of using Legilimency on a student illegally. In response, I've made her counseling class optional. I did _not_ , however, mention which student made the accusation."

The Headmistress, the Minister for Magic, and the Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black all looked expectantly at the pale Professor.

The rapid throb of her pulse betrayed her nervousness. "Of course it was Mr. Potter. He stormed out of my class yesterday with Miss Black in tow." Her voice gained confidence. "Indeed, you can ask Miss Parkinson; she'll confirm that they've been difficult and resistant all year long. And yesterday, their actions were simply insupportable!"

"Oh, we'll get to that if necessary, Professor. But Mr. Black has lodged a formal complaint with the Ministry regarding this accusation. And we'll take all accusations of this nature very seriously given the recent war with Voldemort. Surely you realize that he used Legilimency routinely. Indeed, he used it on Mr. Potter. He knows better than almost anyone exactly what it's like to have someone in his head. So, I believe that you fail to understand the gravity of the situation, Ms. Trallop."

"This is a product of his overactive imagination, Minister. You know that. I came to you with the highest recommendations for treatment of young wizards and witches."

"Overactive imagination?" Sirius burst out. "Overactive imagination? You're talking about the Boy Who Lived! He's not only one of the strongest wizards I know, he's one of the most stable, and his character judgment is almost always spot on. Don't insult him by saying he has an overactive imagination!"

"Mr. Black, if you could see the jumble of thoughts in his brain, you'd know what I say is true!"

"So you've seen in his head, have you, Ms. Trallop?" Kingsley's commanding bass was calm and even quiet.

"What, well, ah, of course not," Trallop stammered. "That was simply a turn of phrase. Poorly stated, merely hyperbole."

McGonagall reached in her desk drawer and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid which she placed in the center of her desk. "Perhaps you'd be willing to submit to questioning under Veritaserum?"

"Absolutely not," Trallop replied stiffly.

The headmistress folded her hands in front of her. "Then you may consider yourself dismissed, Ms. Trallop. You have until lunch to collect your belongs and vacate the castle."

"This isn't over." Trallop stood and stalked to the door. She froze in her tracks when Sirius spoke.

"You're absolutely right; it's not over. I'll see you struck off if it's the last thing I do."

After packing her things, which only took a few minutes, Trallop set off purposefully down the hall. She wasn't done yet.

* * *

 _The Library_

 _Hermione's Free Morning hour_

Hermione settled into her favorite study table near the back of the library. She opened her Ancient Runes book and began the translation due at the end of the week. She was so involved in her work, she didn't notice the hand with a wand pointing at her or hear the whispered "Legilimens."

Trallop permitted herself a small smile as she explored the organized spaces in Hermione's mind, trying to avoid anything that might set off an alarm in the talented witch's head. _This is really too easy. What is this about tent? And such a passionate kiss with young Mr. Potter. The long nights in the tent where they held each other for comfort. An old-fashioned cup that screamed as Hermione destroyed it._

"Is anyone there?" Hermione sat up abruptly and looked around, wand in hand.

"It's just me." Daphne's familiar voice had her relaxing. "I came to study, if you don't mind. I'm having trouble in Potions, and Draco is off with Luna this hour. He said he'd come help if he got a chance."

Trallop smiled again. _So Draco was with Luna? How interesting._ _I wonder what Miss Greengrass has to tell me._ She repeated the process with Daphne, finding her an open book. _Passionate, stolen kisses and even more with Neville Longbottom. Naughty girl! Your parents will be very unhappy to hear about this. Desperation to get out of the marriage contract with Draco._ After quite some time, Trallop was satisfied that she had gotten all she could out of Daphne and prepared to leave, but ducked behind another book case when she heard another student coming.

 _I need to get out of here._ She was beginning to sweat, but reconsidered leaving when she realized who the new student was. Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince himself. He would no doubt have many secrets to tell. However, when she attempted to access his mind, she encountered a solid wall of swirling thoughts, all moving so quickly that she could never catch hold of one to penetrate his shields. Even worse, his head jerked around, looking for the source of the probe.

"Who's there?"

"It's just us." Daphne answered.

"No, someone was trying to use Legilimency on me."

Hermione gasped. "Are you sure?"

"Please, Granger; I know when someone's trying to muck about in my thoughts, even more than Potter."

"Trallop."

"I'd say so."

Hermione frowned. "She wasn't in here. And she'd need to be making eye contact."

"She didn't read me. I've had my shields up since she tried that shit with Potter," Draco answered. "And don't believe it about eye contact; A strong Legilimens with a wand doesn't need eye contact."

* * *

 _Friday Evening_

 _8th Tower_

"Zabini, you suck," Harry groused as he dropped into the chair nearest the fireplace.

"What in the name of Salazar's shorts are you going on about, Potter?"

"I can't go on a date with my girlfriend because you got in a fight with yours. What the fuck, man?"

"That's not my fault!"

"The hell it isn't. Ginny's crying to Hermione about something _you_ did, so Hermione has to go have a girls' night in. I'm tempted to tell Ron, so he'll beat your arse tomorrow at the match."

Blaise smirked. "He's welcome to try. And what do you care? You're not going to be getting any anyway. Hermione's a good girl; she won't have sex with you for at least a couple of months; doesn't matter if you've been friends for years. And you'll get points for letting her spend time with Ginny tonight."

Harry cocked his to the side and considered the tall wizard lounging back his chair, glass in hand. _He has a point._

Draco lifted a matching glass of something contraband and tipped it in a cheers motion. "Luna's with them, so we're all going to be alone tonight."

Neville came out of his door and settled in his accustomed spot on the two-seater situated near Harry's chair. "He's right. Daphne's celebrating Astoria's birthday with her and all of the Slytherin girls. This sucks."

Blaise pulled a bottle from beside him in the chair. "Here; let me make it up to you. Drake, conjure up a pair of glasses for our Gryffindor friends." They took the glasses and settled back into their chairs.

"I suppose it's the least you can do, Zabini." Harry took a contemplative sip of the whiskey and winced at the burn. "But you're probably right, not that I'd tell you tossers if Hermione and I did have sex."

"You know, Potter, I was wondering; how do Muggles keep from getting pregnant? I mean, it's no problem here at Hogwarts and then once we get out, we've got Contraceptive Charms and what not, but Muggles don't have that," Blaise asked.

"Women use pills, kind of like the potion, and patches and stuff. And then there's this cup thing. But men…." Harry's voice trailed off. "You won't believe it."

"Won't believe what?" Terry and Justin were just coming in from a study session in the library. They dropped down in the remaining chairs.

"Are you going to be hospitable and share?" Terry pointed to the drinks.

Draco shrugged and conjured two more glasses. "Sure, why not? Make it a party."

"Now, what won't Blaise believe?" Justin asked.

Harry laughed. "He wants to know what Muggles do for birth control."

Justin snickered. "And you told him about the Pill and the patch and what not?"

"Yeah."

"That just leaves condoms."

Neville was fascinated. "What's a condom?"

"It's like a glove for your nob," Harry answered.

"What's that?" Draco coughed as his Fire Whiskey went down the wrong way.

"Just what I said. It's like a glove that goes over your cock before you have sex."

"You've got to be kidding. You wouldn't be able to feel anything!" Blaise snickered.

"No, they're really thin."

"Do you have one? I've got to see this."

"Nah, like you said, we don't need that stuff here at Hogwarts. And I know the Contraceptive spell," Harry answered as Justin got up and headed to his room. "Oi, Justin, where're you going?"

"Hang on." He came back out moments later with several condoms in hand and threw one to each of his classmates. "There you go. Condoms."

The four Purebloods looked at the foil packets like they were poison.

"How does this work?" Draco turned it over and over in his hand.

Justin and Harry rolled their eyes. "You have to open the package, you twat." Harry ripped the top off foil package and pulled out the condom. "See?"

Draco and the others obediently opened their foil wrappers. "I think there's something wrong with it."

"No, there's not."

"No, seriously, I think Draco might be right." Neville argued.

"It's used! Who wanked in this thing?" Blaise exclaimed.

Hermione, Luna, and Ginny chose that moment to walk in the door. Hermione stopped short, mouth agape when she spotted the prophylactics. Her friends ran into her back like a miniature train wreck. "What are you all doing?"

Terry was the first one to recover enough to vanish the condoms.

"Err, nothing. We were, uhh, discussing the various methods of inhibiting pregnancy in the Muggle world versus the, uhh, wizarding world." Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Blaise was curious how Muggles, uhh, did that."

"And you just happened to have several condoms on hand to give to your friends?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"No, of course not," Harry blustered. "Justin did."

* * *

 _Saturday_

 _The Quidditch Pitch_

The crowd of spectators began arriving an hour before the match began. Hermione ducked between well-wishers and hangers-on to wish the team well. By the time she arrived at the locker room, the Weasleys, Sirius, the pretty brunette she'd seen in the mirror, and, much to Hermione's delight, Ron were already there, talking strategies with Harry.

Harry waved her over, pressed a brief kiss to Hermione's lips, and tucked her under his shoulder before turning back to the crowd of friends and family who were watching the exchange, fascinated.

"Oi! That's my best friend you're kissing. Watch it!" Ron roughly stepped between the two of them, dislodging Harry's arm, and gathered Hermione in a bear hug. "How've you been, 'Mione? You'll let me know if this one," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to Harry, "gives you any trouble, right? I'll come back and kick his arse."

She winked at Harry before answering. "I'll let you know, Ron."

"Excuse me, could I squeeze in here?" Sirius drew their attention.

Hermione turned and viewed Sirius carefully, as one might a unknown dog - with respect and a slight dose of fear. "Sirius," she greeted him cautiously.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but changed his mind. "Ah, yes, I'd like to introduce you to my very good friend, Deirdre Kathleen Finnigan. You know her younger brother, Seamus."

"Call me Kate." The brunette stepped up and offered Hermione her hand. "It's so good to meet you, Hermione."

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but like the open, friendly witch at Sirius's side. And he was obviously happy to have her there.

Madame Hooch stuck her head in the door. "This is the twenty-minute warning. Spectators, please make your way to the stands. Twenty-minute warning!"

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry caught her hand as she turned to leave with Ron and the others. She stepped in closer, and he stole another kiss. "Have fun. I'll catch the Snitch for you."

"Don't get hurt." This time, Hermione rose on her toes and whispered his ear, her breath sending a tingle down his spine. "And I'll keep the Snitch forever."

As the teams flew out, the stands exploded in cheers.

"Introducing Ravenclaw…." Luna's dreamy voice didn't have the same excited pitch of Lee Jordan from years past, but the fans didn't care. "There's Michael Corner at Keeper…."

Hermione and Ron clapped politely but roared along with the rest of Gryffindor House as Luna announced the Gryffindor team.

"Ginny Weasley is back at Chaser, and new this year is Dennis Creevy at Beater. You know, I always thought he'd be good at hitting balls with a bat."

"Luna!"

"Sorry, Headmistress."

"I can't believe a Creevy is a Beater," Ron yelled in Hermione's ear over the madness of the crowd.

"Harry said he's quite good, has a mean swing; it helps he's really fast!" she called back, clapping for the diminutive Beater who was demonstrating that speed.

"And finally, Gryffindor's Captain at Seeker, Harry Potter!"

Hermione gripped Ron's forearm when Harry expertly executed a barrel roll on hearing his name, much to the delight of the spectators. "Why does he _do_ that? There's no good reason to be goofing around like that," she fretted.

"He's perfectly fine," he answered.

"The Quaffle is up and they're off!"

Cheers echoed around the Pitch. Hermione largely ignored the crowd, Luna, and all the action on the Pitch as she watched Harry intently.

"Gryffindor strikes first with a goal by Weasley; Ravenclaw now in possession, passing to - intercepted by Vane from Gryffindor who is headed back in the other direction. She really needs to watch for that - oh dear, that Bludger really did a number on her arm. Ravenclaw back in possession. It looks like Ravenclaw is going to give Gryffindor a game this afternoon."

Harry flew past the stands, keeping his eyes peeled for the Snitch and snuck a glance at Hermione. He winked mischievously before cutting left across the pitch, the Ravenclaw Seeker right behind him. She sighed when his cape lifted, giving her a nice view of his arse in Quidditch leathers.

"Are you staring at his arse?" Ron's voice startled her out of her too-brief daydream involving ridding her boyfriend of his trousers.

"Ravenclaw scores! Still no sign of the Snitch."

"Honestly, Ron, of course not! I was just thinking about the probability of a Gryffindor win today."

"Huh. Sure you were." Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted when Ginny sent the Quaffle sailing through the goals again. "Yes! That's my sister!"

Over an hour later, Harry spotted the Snitch, hovering near mid-Pitch, well below the stands. He dove for it, executing a perfect Wronski Feint. Hermione felt her heart in throat as she watched him pelt towards the ground at top speed.

"Oh Godric, please pull up, please pull up!" Hermione muttered as she dug her fingernails into Ron's forearm. "I can't watch! Did he get it? Yes!"

"He got it!" Both of their arms flew up in the celebration of the victory as Harry pulled up Snitch held high above his head for all to see. He flew directly up to the Gryffindor stands and hovered in front of Hermione and Ron.

"I told you I'd catch the Snitch for you." He grinned and held out the still fluttering Snitch to Hermione, who threw her arms around him.

"The final score this afternoon is 370 to 120." Luna's dreamy voice rang out over the PA system. "Harry Potter caught the snitch in a Wronski Feint maneuver and now he's giving it to Hermione. Really, Harry, you can do better than that for a kiss. Don't be shy; Ron won't be mad. His girlfriend is just over in the Hufflepuff stands; I'm sure of it."

"Miss Lovegood!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Professor; I didn't realize you were still here. But really it's obvious to anyone with eyes that Harry and Hermione belong together. It's really a shame about the nightmares. I keep telling them that they just need to sleep together, and they'll both get more rest."

Sirius dropped his head into his hands as pandemonium reigned.

" _Miss Lovegood_!"

* * *

 **A/N** : ShayaLonnie (whose fabulous _PTP_ was the original muse for this little story) was in on the planning document for this story with Glitter and me way back in May of 2015 and at the time we had the idea that it would be hysterical if Harry and Hermione used full-on Muggle contraceptives, with all the attendant mess and hassle. And we _really_ thought that a condom would freak out the Purebloods, so the scene above is my take on that conversation. Thank you, Glitter  & Lonnie for what I thought was a truly amusing idea. I hope it turned out for y'all!


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** As always, many thanks to Glitterally for taking the time to beta this crazy mess of mine.

* * *

 **Ch. 17**

 _Sunday Morning_

 _The Great Hall_

Students lurched into the Great Hall on the morning after the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match; the Gryffindors were noticeably slower and indeed absent, especially the older students. Apparently, the victory celebration had gotten a bit rowdy the night before. At the Slytherin table, Draco fixed his coffee as usual and began to peruse the _Daily Prophet_ for the daily news. He carefully sat his mug down to get a closer view of a small article beneath the fold on page one.

 _Another Cursed Position?_

 _According to sources located at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a student-favorite professor was ignominiously fired on Friday. Professor Zoe Trallop, a certified counselor, was responsible for a class organized to help students cope with their grief and stress resulting from the Second Wizarding War and, indeed, the final battle that took place at Hogwarts. As readers will no doubt remember, on 2 May 1998, Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters attacked the school, ultimately facing total defeat at the hands of Harry Potter and the formerly secret resistance group, the Order of the Phoenix. Many students who had reached their majority participated in the battle, and the casualties, including those who were were not of age, were staggering. The Ministry has recently conducted an interim census and the numbers of death and wounded are truly devastating. (See article "Census Reflects Staggering Losses" on page 12 for further details.)_

 _Professor Trallop was released from her teaching position after Headmistress Minerva McGonagall (Mugwump, Order of Merlin First Class) unceremoniously made the counseling class optional. There is some question of whether or not the Headmistress had the authority to make that decision given that the program was Ministry-mandated. However, both Hogwarts and the Ministry have declined comment at this time. Professor Trallop's abrupt dismissal brings to mind the cursed Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA) position. No professor maintained that position for longer than one school year for decades. Whether that curse has been broken has yet to be seen, but could this be another case of a 'Cursed Class?'_

"A student favorite my arse," he snorted. "Blaise, did you see this?"

Blaise glanced over at the offending article. "Yeah, but forget about that; you need to look at page twelve. That article on the census - this isn't good."

Draco flipped to the census piece and scanned it quickly. "Damn. I knew it was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad."

"What do you think they're going to do?"

"Nothing we'll like. But we won't survive without a serious increase in the population." Draco mulled over the article. "Wouldn't surprise me if they tried to revive one of those old marriage laws."

"What the hell are those?"

"I know Binns was boring, but didn't you pay attention at all in History of Magic?"

Blaise snickered. "I sat with Pansy fourth and fifth year, so I was kind of distracted."

"There were some old laws on the books requiring marriages years ago. They might not do it, but I can see it happening." Draco looked thoughtful. "But I bet with all the blood purity nonsense from the war, they'll try to make a difference or some such shite. Wouldn't surprise me if they tried to make sure all Purebloods married Half-bloods or Muggle-borns."

Blaise's arm carrying his cup to his mouth froze. "You can't be serious."

A droll look was the only response.

"Are you saying they won't even let us marry who we want?"

A shrug. "Maybe. But I wouldn't bet on being able to marry your pretty red-head if the Ministry gets involved."

"Maybe they won't do it."

"Maybe." Draco shrugged again, clearly not convinced.

"Bugger."

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

 _Grimmauld Place_

Sirius slipped back into his room, breakfast tray in hand. The stray beam of morning light hit Deirdre Kathleen's face, throwing her features into sharp relief. He slid the tray on the bedside table and crouched beside her; he gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled softly. _She's good for me, balances me out. Why are there shadows under her eyes?_

"Ummm, morning." Her green eyes opened slowly, and she blinked to clear the fog.

"Good morning, sleepy head. I brought your breakfast."

"What time is it?" She yawned and stretched.

"About 8:30; you can go back to sleep, though."

"It feels so much earlier. I don't understand; we went to bed early last night."

"You've been tired for days, sweet. I shouldn't have dragged you up to Hogwarts yesterday."

Kate pushed up in bed and leaned against the headboard. "Don't be ridiculous. I love Quidditch. I've just been tired a bit recently; I'll get over it." She reached over and pulled the steaming teacup to face, inhaling the fragrant steam. "This smells wonderful. Thank you." After a sip, she continued, "What did you want to do today?"

Sirius stood up to sit beside her on the bed, leaning one arm over her legs. "I wanted to spend it with you." His right hand brushed her thigh to her waist to her arm. "Maybe we could stay in here for bit. Or" - he leaned over and brushed his lips to hers - "we could go to your apartment and pack a few bags so you can stay with me all the time."

She returned the brief caress. "Sirius, you know I can't just move in here with you. We've both got reputations to uphold, and I'm really not going to do that to Harry and Hermione."

"I know, love." He kissed her again, took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "This may not be the time, but I want you to stay here with me, live with me. Marry me."

"Ma-marry?"

He nodded solemnly. "Marry me."

"Marriage is forever, Sirius, until death do us part; are you sure?" Kate set aside the teacup on the tray and took his hands in hers. "You've had a huge shock, and I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

"No, I'll never regret this. I do want to marry you, and Mary would approve. Our daughter is grown; she doesn't need me to be the widowed father. I love you; I think I've loved you ever since you faced me down in Kingsley's office. So, yes, I'm older than you; yes, I've got a child only ten years your junior, but I still want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. Please say yes."

Tears glimmered in her eyes. "If you're sure, then yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

"Oh thank Godric." He pulled her into his arms. "I thought you were going to turn me down." He pulled back abruptly. "Don't move; I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later, Sirius came back in the room and took a knee. "I need to do this right." He pulled a ring box from his pocket and opened it. "Deirdre Kathleen Finnigan, would you make me the happiest man alive and accept my proposal of marriage?"

* * *

 _Sunday Evening_

 _Eighth's Tower, Room 1_

"Harry! Harry!" Sirius tried to get his godson's attention, but Harry was nowhere near the mirror in his room. Giving up, Sirius hastily scratched out a message to Hermione and Harry letting them know that he was engaged. The last thing they needed was to see it in the Prophet before he told them.

* * *

 _Friday_

 _Rouen, France_

Zoe Trallop mulled over the parchments on which she'd written all things she'd learned in her last days at Hogwarts. The list was admittedly shorter than she'd like, but potentially profitable nonetheless. And two of them were more dangerous than she'd like to think.

 _Daphne Greengrass_

 _snogging and heavy petting with Neville_

 _wants out of betrothal contract with Draco_

 _bought a contraceptive potion with her allowance_

 _plans to consummate relationship on New Year's Eve_

 _Draco Malfoy_

 _dating Luna Lovegood_

 _nothing from him directly, but parents probably wouldn't be happy_

 _Hermione Black_

 _LIVED IN A TENT with Potter and Weasley for months!_

 _dating Harry Potter_

 _destroying a cup that screamed in outrage_

 _Horcrux *research for information_

 _kissed Ron Weasley (wonder if Potter knows)_

 _obliviated her parents_

 _Harry Potter_

 _Aware of intrusions_

 _a man? creature? with no nose (probably Voldemort)_

 _Now, who to contact first? Who would be mostly likely to pay handsomely to keep their secrets? Who could pay the most? Malfoy, of course._ She remembered the imperturbable block on his thoughts. Malfoy had obviously been trained by masters at Occlumency, and those masters probably taught him some very ugly spells. _Best to steer clear of Malfoy if at all possible._ Her eyes narrowed as she further considered the short list. Since her salary was a thing of the past, money was very much a concern. Hermione Black was ruthless and smart, but she had a core of goodness. _She might pay to keep from others getting hurt. But how much can she afford?_ Trallop's fingernail tapped the table as she thought. She smiled. _I'll destroy her. Whether she pays or not, I'm going to destroy that chit. Getting me fired, making sure that Harry never trusted me. Oh, she'll pay, no matter what. But first, a payday, so that leaves Daphne Greengrass. Wealthy Pureblood. Her allowance alone will be quite the addition to my bank account._ She pulled out a clean parchment and began to write.

* * *

 _Saturday Evening_

 _Kate's Apartment_

Kate, clad only in her unmentionables, discarded yet another dress into the pile on the floor. Her sapphire and diamond ring winked in the candlelight. She stopped and admired it. A large rectangular sapphire flanked by two half-moon diamonds, the ring was bigger than she'd ever imagined having, but it suited her hand. It was strangely perfect. _Now, if only my pants fit! What's going on with my waistline? I haven't been eating differently. And my breasts are practically exploding out of my bra!_

As soon as that thought occurred, a calendar started ticking in her head. _When was the last time I had a period?_ She mentally did the math. _But there's no morning sickness_. _I'm just exhausted all the time. Mum didn't have morning sickness. She was just tired, couldn't get enough rest._ Kate considered her wand lying discarded on the bed. There was only one way to know for sure _. Do I mention this to Sirius? What if it's a false alarm? What if it's not? If it's true, I got pregnant one of the first times we were together!_

A soft pop sounded in her living area, jolting her out of her reverie.. "What's wrong?" Sirius asked.

"Uh, erm, uh, nothing."

"I know you're lying; something's wrong. Tell me true." He walked over to stand beside her, brushing his hand down her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her check.

"I'm having trouble finding something to wear. Everything just isn't fitting quite right. I was just thinking about my diet. And…," her voice tapered off.

"And…," he gently encouraged her to continue.

"And I was, uh, wondering if I might, ah, be pregnant." Kate clasped her hands nervously and looked down to watch them twist helplessly.

Wordlessly, Sirius dropped into his Animagus form. She jumped at his cool, damp nose pressed to her belly. She could see the sides of the powerful dog inhale and exhale, drawing a smell deep into his lungs. After only a few moments, he took a step back and transformed again, immediately gathering in her in his arms. "I think you are, sweet. Not far along though, there's just a faint change in your scent. I'd guess just a few weeks."

"Are you angry?" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

"Angry? No! Of course not." He nudged her with a stirring erection. "I'm far from angry, love; I'm thrilled. You definitely can't back out now." He buried one hand in her hair and ran the other down her back to cup her arse and pull her even closer to him. "I think we need to mark this occasion." He guided her towards the bed until the back of her legs bumped the mattress. "As a matter of fact, I think we'll have to stay in tonight so we can celebrate properly." He kissed her deeply and pulled back only to push her down on the bed. He leaned over and pressed kisses down her neck, her chest, and on her belly. "We really need to stay in tonight, Deirdre Kathleen."

* * *

 _Sunday Morning_

 _Breakfast_

The nondescript postal owl dropped an envelope with no return address onto Daphne's plate and flew away without waiting on a reply or even a treat. Frowning, she picked it up and opened it.

 _Miss Greengrass,_

 _It has recently come to my attention that you have been dating Neville Longbottom, snogging him, hiding in the Room of Requirement with him, and generally behaving in a manner unbecoming of a Greengrass, particularly of a Greengrass engaged to a Malfoy. If you would like for that information to remain between the two of us, you will have to make it worth my time. This letter is a portkey; attach a bag with one hundred galleons in it. If it returns to me with no money attached, then the Prophet will be delighted to pay a commensurate amount for the story._

 _I look forward to hearing from you on Wednesday._

 _Your friend_

 _Oh, and Miss Greengrass, if you were to tell anyone of our little arrangement, I would know. And I'd consider that a breach of trust. You wouldn't want that to happen. So, let's keep this just between us._

Daphne felt the blood drain from her face as she attempted to quell her inner panic; she folded the letter and tucked it just under her plate. _What do I do? If I pay, they'll keep on asking. If I don't, my parents will find out. Maybe the hundred galleons will buy them off, at least for a bit, get me more time to figure out what to do. Do I have that? Yes, more if I_ -

"Daph, did you finish that potions work?" Blaise's voice interrupted her almost hysterical inner voice.

"What was that? I mean, yes, yes, I did," she answered, flustered. "Did you need to cross check your work?"

"Well, if you wouldn't mind?"

"No, of course not." She extracted the blackmail letter from between the table and plate and tucked it in her bag as she pulled out her potions parchment for Blaise to check. "Here you go." She handed over the neatly written assignment. "Let me know if you see anything that needs correcting."

"Sure, will do."

* * *

 _Sunday Late Morning_

 _Deirdre Kathleen's Apartment_

"When do you want to get married?" Sirius asked Kate as he lazily trailed his fingers up her still-flat belly. "Do you want to have a big society bash?"

"Helga's hat, no!" She burst out laughing. "Can you imagine me waddling down the aisle at eight months pregnant? The society matrons would be aghast."

"I don't care. You'll be even more gorgeous when you're eight months along. Bugger what they say. If you want a big wedding, we'll have one."

"Sirius." Her voice was reproving. "You know me better than that. And, I don't want the gossip for our baby or for your other children. So, no. No society wedding. A small one will do just fine. We can get married next weekend with just our closest family and friends."

He huffed out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank Godric. I'll arrange for a licence tomorrow, and we can tell Harry and Hermione this afternoon."

"Let me be there; I want to ask Hermione if she'll stand up with me."

Gratitude flashed across Sirius's face. "I can't describe how much I love you."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! I apologize about the formatting issues on the lists above, but I'm not sure how best to correct them on this system. When and if I figure it out, I'll fix it for you!


	18. Chapter 18

**Beta love:** Glitterally - I can't even begin to thank her enough for all the work she does on this. I hope y'all have read her stuff and reviewed, because if you prefer well-written, funny, well-plotted stories, she's your new favorite author.

Thank you so much for all your support!

* * *

 **Ch. 18**

 _Sunday Evening_

 _Eighths Tower_

"Harry? Harry? Are you there?" Sirius's voice echoed from the two-way mirror. Harry left off hanging up robes in his wardrobe (boring task, that) and picked it up.

"Oi. Right here. Everything okay?"

"Well, Deirdre Kathleen and I have some news." Sirius hooked his arm around his fiancée to pull her more fully into the mirror. "Can you get Hermione?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Everything's okay, though?"

Sirius nodded, and Harry went to Hermione's door to knock. As he waited briefly on her to respond, he pondered if the door would let him enter as it had earlier in the year. It was probably best not to try it when Sirius was watching, though. When she opened the door, she took in the situation at a glance, especially the occupied mirror in Harry's hand. "Everything alright?"

They looked expectantly at the figures in the mirror. "Are you two alone? We've got some news."

"Oh, sure, come on in." Hermione waved Harry in and closed the door behind him. "Daphne's in the library; she's been really quiet recently. Anyway, what's going on?"

"Well, we, ah" - Sirius cleared his throat nervously - "we've just found out that we're expecting a baby. And we're moving up the wedding to this weekend."

Silence greeted his announcement; Hermione blinked twice as she processed the double bit of information, and the mirror tilted slightly as Harry's grip loosened, but it was that small motion that jolted them out of their stupor.

Harry recovered first. "That's wonderful news, Sirius! Congratulations to you both. I'm sure the Headmistress will let us get away."

"Yes, congratulations! I can see you're both excited. Of course we'll be there; there's no place we'd rather be!" Hermione pulled the mirror from his hand. "Where are you planning on holding the service? It'll be on Saturday, I presume?"

Sirius recognized the way the wind was blowing and handed the mirror to Kate with a smile. She could handle the details.

Half an hour later, Harry was laying on Hermione's bed, long legs crossed, tossing the Snitch from the game into the air and catching it as it weakly fluttered about. Hermione set the now empty mirror on her bedside table and snatched the golden ball out of the air.

"Hey, that's mine! My boyfriend gave it to me," she teased him.

"So he did," Harry answered, sitting up. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yes; of course I'm fine." Hermione turned the Snitch over in her hand, examining the fine metalworking.

"Hey - I know you. Talk to me."

"Fine." She gave in with a slight grimace. "I'm a bit torn. I really like Kate. She's good for him, you know? But I'm angry because he's lectured us on propriety and yet he gets his girlfriend pregnant. Haven't they heard of the Contraceptive Charm?" Her voice rose a bit at the end, slightly hysterical. "He wants to be my father, and now he's going to be a father to another child, so where do I fit in this equation?" She blinked rapidly, struggling to hold the tears at bay. "On the other hand, if he's preoccupied with a baby, then maybe he'll leave me alone - leave _us_ alone - and give us time to find our feet.

But where do _I_ fit in Harry? It feels like I've lost my family - again."

He gathered her in his arms. "You're my family; you've been my family for years. And Ron's your family. Molly, Arthur, all of them, they're your family. And we'll always be there for you. And you know what? Sirius loves you; he's loved you for years, even before he realized what happened. You won't lose him again. He won't let that happen. He may be happy about a new baby, but you'll always be his; there's room for you in that family. Kate asked you again to be in the wedding, didn't she?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "And she asked me to meet her on Friday afternoon so we could shop for our dresses."

"I bet she has a best friend who'd do that for her. She asked you so you'd know you were part of the family."

Hermione pulled back and wiped away a stray tear. "When'd you get so smart about emotions?"

"Well, I've got this new girlfriend, and she's pretty awesome. You really should meet - oww!" He rubbed his arm where she punched him. "You've still got a mean right hook. Maybe we should go show Malfoy."

* * *

 _Friday Afternoon_

 _Ministry for Magic, London_

Hermione paused before the door for the Minister for Magic's office, squared her shoulders, and walked in. Kate was storing her wand in her bag, getting ready to leave. She looked up and smiled at the witch hovering near the door.

"I knew that was you; I'm so glad you came. Let me just tell Kingsley I'm leaving for the day." She slipped into the inner office and emerged moments later to slip her bag over her shoulder. "All set; is there anything you need to do in the building?" Hermione shook her head, and they headed out the door for shopping. "I thought we could go to Muggle London, if you don't mind?" Kate kept up a steady chatter on the way the door. "There's a shop on Carnaby Street that's owned by a Half-blood who's chosen to live largely in the Muggle world, but knows exactly what's appropriate for the Wizarding World. She and I were at Hogwarts together."

Kate and Hermione entered the unassuming shop and went upstairs to a showroom where they were greeted by Ianthe Pemberton. "Kate! I haven't seen you in ages; is Kingsley keeping you busy? Or is it this new man of yours? What brings you to the shop?"

After exchanging air-kisses with her, Kate explained. "Well, I need a wedding dress for me. Something low-key, simple, off-the-rack." She hurried on at the astounded expression on Ianthe's face. "And Hermione needs an attendant dress." She turned to face her soon to be step-daughter. "Do you have any ideas what you'd enjoy?"

"I like blue, honestly. I'm always expected to wear Gryffindor red for big events, and blue's so much better with my complexion." She answered definitively, but hastened to add, "but it's your wedding. What would you like me to wear?"

Kate laughed. "I love blue. And I know that feeling. Everyone expected me to wear black or gold. Gold! I look so washed out in gold. That's a big perk of graduation; no one expects you to show your House loyalty at every major event. Ianthe was lucky; green's her color."

A small half-smile crossed the witch in question's face. "Well, it's all a matter of finding the right shades. Let's start with you, Kate. Then we can work with Hermione's dress." She pulled a wand from a concealed pocket of her jacket and flicked it, summoning a rack of gorgeous white dresses. "Now, I like this one…."

Only an hour and four dresses later, Kate pronounced a dress "the one." She and Ianthe scoured the store, handing Hermione several dresses to try on. When Hermione emerged in a navy blue knee length number, she knew it was perfect. "I like this one," she said definitively. "Do you think I could wear it to the Longbottom New Year's Eve bash?"

"Absolutely; that looks divine on you. That special man in your life is going to swallow his tongue," Ianthe enthused. "What are you going to wear for New Year's, Kate?"

Hermione suppressed a smile at the slightly panicked look on her future stepmother's face. "I hadn't thought..."

"I'm sure you'll be invited, you and Sirius both. Do you want to go ahead and get something today?"

"Well, in for a knut, in for a galleon. Sure. And while we're shopping - what're you wearing to the Yule Ball, Hermione?"

"I don't think, ah, I hadn't given it much thought; I was thinking about transfiguring a dress I already have."

"Ianthe, could you give us a second?" The shop owner nodded and retreated to make certain everything was in order. Kate pulled out her wand cast a quick _muffliato_ before turning to speak to Hermione. "Why would you transfigure a dress? Do you mean to tell me that Sirius hasn't given you access to the Black vaults for things like this?"

"No, but I haven't asked, either. And I can provide for myself," Hermione answered, stubborn.

"Yes, you can, but you shouldn't _have_ to. Will you at least let him pay for the dress for tomorrow? You wouldn't be doing this without him; save your galleons for your Yule Ball gown."

Hermione thought over the logic, the only sign of her consternation when she bit her bottom lip. She glanced down at the gorgeous dress she hadn't been able to bear to take off. _If I let Sirius pay for this, it really is within reach for me to pay for my own Yule Ball gown. It'd be nice to not have to worry about getting hit with a random 'finite.' And I could maybe use it again for something. Maybe._

"Please. Let him help; let him do this. And if you give him the chance, he'll do more."

"Okay," she agreed. "He can buy my dress for the wedding."

"Wonderful! What did you have in mind for the Yule Ball?" Kate privately decided to make certain Hermione had access to an allowance until she married. It was the least Sirius could do. Sometimes that man was so dense. Even if she didn't need the money, it would be there for her.

* * *

 _Last Saturday in November_

 _Grimmauld Place_

Harry stepped through the Floo into a scene of minor chaos. Molly Weasley was directing a series of flower arrangements across the room. The magically enlarged room's normal furniture had been vanished and replaced by a few rows of chairs. Kreacher and Dobby were tugging at ribbons draped on them.

"Harry, dear, so good to see you! I know you need to see Sirius, but could give me a hand with these flowers first?" Molly commandeered his attention. As Harry took over the floral arrangements, placing them where she indicated, she nattered on. "Deirdre Kathleen is so sweet. She asked me to coordinate everything today. You know how I like to cook and entertain, so this was the perfect little side job. And, I get to see you and Hermione all dressed up. You do look so handsome; are those new dress robes?"

Harry let the chatter wash over him, but jolted out of his reverie when she continued. "And have you seen Hermione? She looks like a dream. That shade of navy is perfect for her complexion. Just a beautiful girl. Now tell me, how are things going between the two of you?"

"Molly, can I steal Harry for a few moments? Best man duty and all that." Harry had never been more grateful to hear his godfather's voice.

"Of course, of course. We'll be ready to go right on time in here, don't worry about that." She checked the clock on the wall. "Kingsley's due in half an hour, and the guests are arriving in an hour, so don't be late!"

Harry and Sirius beat a hasty retreat to the master bedroom, where Sirius pulled out the ring for Harry to keep. "Don't lose this!" As Harry tucked it into his pocket, he continued, "and how are you and Hermione doing?"

Harry froze like a deer in the headlamps. "Err, good."

Sirius raised his brows.

"No, really, we're good. We love each other." He sighed in exasperation. "Come on, Sirius, you can't expect me to talk about our relationship in depth with my girlfriend's father!"

A grimace passed over his Sirius's face. "No, I suppose not."

"But," Harry took a deep breath, "I do want to formally ask your permission to ask her to marry me." Sirius's jaw unhinged slightly, and Harry hurriedly continued. "Not today, but some day soon."

The older wizard blinked. "I – " He gathered Harry in a bear hug. "I don't know of a better man for her." He loosened his grip and took a step back, hands still clasped at Harry's upper arms. "When I first found out about her, well, you know. But Deirdre Kathleen, she made me see what I was doing to all of us. I told you I wouldn't interfere and I won't. But thank you; thank you for asking."

"So, that's a yes?"

He nodded. "You know, James and Lily would be so proud of the man you've become. Everything you've done would make them so proud."

"Do you think so?" Harry's voice held just a note of trepidation.

"I know so. Now, I'm getting married. How do I look?"

In another bedroom on the third floor, Kate smoothed down the front of her elegant gown. "How do I look?" she asked her mother and Hermione.

Deirdre Finnigan, Kate's mother, smiled and blinked rapidly to clear the tears welling up in her eyes. "You are gorgeous, my darling. That shade of white is perfect for you."

"I agree with your mum. Sirius will be staggered when he sees you."

Molly bustled in. "Don't you look just gorgeous? I love that cut of dress on you, Kate. Kingsley is here, the guests have started arriving, and I wanted to make sure you had your flowers." She handed Kate a beautiful bouquet with bells of Ireland and British lavender and a smaller one to Hermione. "Here are yours, dear, and you have the ring?" At her nod, she continued. "Good, good. And Dee, so good to see you again. It's been since Hogwarts, hasn't it? I have this single rosebud for you carry; are you ready to come down and be seated? Kate, you and Hermione should be downstairs in fifteen minutes, and we'll start five minutes later. The boys are already down there."

Precisely twenty minutes later, Molly charmed the piano to play a wedding march and Kate began her journey down the aisle.

As Kingsley began the ceremony, Harry and Hermione's eyes met. He mouthed, "I love you."

She smiled. "I know."

They watched as the magic of the marriage ceremony bound Sirius and Kate together until death and walked arm in arm behind them after the ceremony. While the newly married couple escaped for a few moments of privacy, they guarded the door and spoke aloud for the first time today.

Harry wrapped his arms around her and touched their foreheads together. "You know? What kind of answer is that to 'I love you'?"

"Didn't you ever see _The Empire Strikes Back_?" She giggled and took advantage of the close proximity of their lips to press hers to his. "That was a very romantic scene."

"You and I recall _The Empire Strikes Back_ very differently, but I love you anyway. And that scene was in _Return of the Jedi_."

"No, it was _Empire_. And I love you too."

"Break it up, you two. Time to face the crowds," Sirius's teasing voice interrupted.

* * *

 _Last Sunday in November_

 _The Great Hall_

Another anonymous owl dropped a letter onto Daphne's plate. She knew without opening it what it would say. _I'm in over my head_. She looked over at her Gryffindor boyfriend. _Maybe I should ask for help._ But her House training rose to the fore. _Wait. See if you can fix this without involving anyone else. What if they actually know if I tell? It'd be a disaster for all of us._ She opened it – predictably, it demanded even more galleons this time, more than she had on hand, actually, with a Friday deadline. _I can't keep this up._

* * *

 **A/N:** So, Who's right? Harry or Hermione? Is it _Empire_ or _Jedi_? If you review and can tell me who it is, then I'll send you a preview of Ch. 19, unless you don't like those kinds of things. :)

(Did you know I'm a _Star Wars_ fan? Yeah, it goes way back. That's my first fandom. I thought it was "X-Files," but nope, it's _Star Wars_.)

Oh, in the interest of full disclosure, "you and I remember 'something' very differently" - it's from the _Avengers_ , when Hawkeye says to the Black Widow - "You and I remember Budapest very differently." Hawkeye's dry sense of humor speaks to me on a visceral level. I'm pretty sure he's a Gryffindor/Hufflepuff. And, in my head, Harry "you don't have to call me sir" Potter is pretty sassy fellow.

Thank you, as always, for reading and reviewing. I can't begin to tell you how much I appreciate your support!


	19. Chapter 19

**Beta Love:** as always, the incomparable glitterally. I must also thank PaganIanthe for looking over this chapter and offering suggestions.

 **Author's Note:** I asked a Star Wars question on Ch. 18, and I'm afraid it was a bit of a trick question. Harry and Hermione were both right! I loved interacting with all of you that responded. Thank you so much! I think I got everyone the promised preview. If I missed you, let me know, and I'll catch you with a preview of Ch. 20!

And without further ado...back to _PHB._

* * *

 _1_ _st_ _Sunday in December_

 _The Great Hall_

Daphne watched as the Owl Post swarmed the hall and almost groaned aloud when the now familiar blank envelope dropped onto her plate. _I can't do this anymore. I have to talk to Neville._

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, "Neville, is there something going on with Daphne? She's not really talking to me very much anymore." Hermione carefully pulled the wrapper off her breakfast muffin. "Did I do something to her? I mean, I asked, but she just said 'everything's fine' and dashed off."

His coffee cup paused on its' way to his mouth as he considered his answer. "She's been quieter than usual, but she told me there wasn't anything wrong either; I'm getting kind of worried she wants to break up with me. But then, when we're alone" - he shrugged - "everything seems fine. I don't know. She says she wants to stay together."

"Maybe you should talk to her again," Harry put in. "She just might not have been in the mood to talk about anything."

"Are you implying women are moody, Harry?" Hermione's voice carried just a note of reproof.

Recognizing danger, he backpedaled. "Not at all. Of course not. But maybe she's just had a lot going on with classes. Or something." He gratefully drew his friends' attention to the arriving post. "Look! It's the Owl Post!"

Hermione smirked as she picked up the unmarked envelope from a common post owl who turned and flew away. "I'm sure that's what you meant." The smile faded as she read the contents of the mail.

 _Dear Miss Black,_

 _If you don't want the public to hear about your months living unchaperoned in a tent with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, you will pay 200 galleons by return portkey on Friday. If you choose to ignore this, rest assured the Prophet will hear all about it. If you are tempted to tell your precious boyfriend or father about this, don't. I will ruin them all. Don't think the time in the tent is damaging enough? I'm ready to tell all about the Horcruxes, too. Do you think the Wizarding public is ready to hear that the 'Boy Who Lived,' the 'Chosen One' was a horcrux? Will they ever trust him again? And if you mention this to them, I will know._

 _I look forward to your reply and payment on Friday._

"Oi! Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry snapped his fingers beside her ear, jolting her out of her reverie.

She folded the letter neatly and tucked it into her bag. "We need to talk. Let's go." She stopped before she got up, having second thoughts. "Wait. No. We do need to talk Harry, but I think we need to act normal. Let's finish breakfast, _then_ go for a nice walk around the castle."

Fifteen minutes later, they left the Great Hall, hand in hand. "Where do you want to go? The RoR?" Harry asked.

When they arrived, Hermione paced back and forth until a simple door appeared. The room was small with only two chairs angled toward one another. After they settled, she pulled out the note and handed to him. "Tell me what you think."

Harry felt a hot flash of fury go through him as he read the threat. He wanted to incinerate the letter, but instead only crumpled the edge in his tightening grasp. "How could she know this?"

"She? You think it's Trallop too?"

A short nod answered her question. "But I didn't think she got in, certainly not deep enough to know this." He jerked the letter up and waved it, frustrated.

"No, I agree." She paused and continued, voice regretful. "I think it's my fault. I was in the library the day she was fired, and I thought someone was there, but Daphne came up. So I thought it was her. Then, Draco came in and claimed that someone was trying to use Legilimency on him." She shook her head. "I just didn't make the connection. What was I thinking? Godric, I'm so sorry," she ended on a moan.

"Sorry for what? You didn't do anything. This is all her." Harry leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, letter dangling from one hand. "The real question is what do you want to do about it?"

"I want to tell her to go hang," she snapped back. "But it's not just about me; It's about you and Sirius, and even Kate now."

"Then we'll tell her to go hang."

"What about Sirius? Kate?"

"They'll be fine. We'll warn them." Harry handed the letter back to her. "And I don't think this will end like she wants it to."

"You don't think so?"

"No. Think about it. Except that first piece, they've been printing stuff about us, but it's all been backed up by pictures. She's only got a fantastic-sounding story now. We'll tell Kingsley if we have to, and there's no way he lets the papers get word of the Horcruxes." He paused. "She's going to pay for this, Hermione; she's not going to get away it. And I don't just mean we're not going to pay her. We're going to end this."

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

 _In the Eighths Tower_

"Daph, what's going on?"

The blonde blinked at the abrupt question from Neville. "Nothing. Just – nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. You've been acting a bit differently for a couple of weeks, and I think I- no, I _need_ to know what's going on."

"You don't have any rights over me," she answered quietly.

He took a step towards her. "No, I don't have any rights, but I want to. And you're shutting me out. If you want to break up, then please just tell me."

"No, no, I don't want to break up."

"You realize we've had this conversation more than once. And I've just let it go, but I can't do that anymore. I need you to talk to me. I'm not Slytherin, Daphne; I can't read between the lines like you do. If I've done something you wrong, you need to tell me."

"No, no, that's not it!" Daphne laughed, a touch of hysteria in her voice. "It's not you _at all._ I just don't think I _can_ tell you."

"Will you at least try?"

She glanced around the currently empty room. "I'll try. But not here. We need to be alone and dead certain of it."

"The Room of Requirement, then?"

A few minutes later, Neville paced back and forth in front the apparently empty wall, and a door appeared, but as soon as it did, Harry emerged with Hermione right behind him. At Harry's abrupt stop, Hermione bumped into him. She peeked around his shoulder. "Well, this is awkward."

"No, no, Daphne and I just need a place to talk alone and well…," his voice trailed off.

"Eighths' Tower seems to have ears?" Harry provided drily. At his friend's nod, he waved his hand towards the now empty room. "Go on in. That's what Hermione and I were doing, talking. We'll see you at dinner, yeah? Hermione's headed to the library, and I've got Quidditch practice." He half-turned and held out his hand for her take.

When Neville and Daphne entered, sure enough, there were two chairs, just right for a serious conversation. He waited, if a bit impatiently, for her to collect her thoughts and begin.

"I'm being blackmailed. Whoever it is, they're threatening to go to the press with our relationship. And they said they'd know if I told anyone, but I can't go on doing this."

He sat in stunned silence. Whatever he had been expecting to hear, this wasn't it. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"They said that they'd know if I told you or anyone; I've been trying to figure a way out ever since the first note, but whoever it is just keeps on sending them. I wanted to tell you; I did! but I didn't want to drag you into this mess. And I thought about telling Astoria, but she tells our mother everything, and she only keeps her own secrets. As far as she's concerned, you and I are just good friends."

"Tell your parents."

"But – "

"No, Daphne, tell your parents. We've been dating for weeks. Tell them."

"They'll make me break up with you; they want this marriage to Draco!"

"That's not going to happen, and you know it."

"No, I don't _know_ it."

"Yes, you do." Neville leaned forward and took her hands in his much larger ones. "You do know it. You know how much I care about you. And you know Draco's going to marry Luna. You know he will."

"So what if he does? They'll just sign another contract with the Notts or the Zabinis. They'll find someone. They have two daughters to marry off, Neville."

He was shaking his head no. "Daphne, do you really think I'm going to let you marry anyone but me?"

She was torn between joy and anger. "It's not your place to _le_ t me do anything, Neville Longbottom!" She pulled her hands from his. "If, _if_ I were your fiancée, then _maybe_ you'd have that kind of say over what I do, but you aren't! You haven't even asked!"

Neville leaned back in his chair, contemplating his next move. She was right; he hadn't asked. He'd just assumed she was on the same page with him. "I'm sorry. That was presumptuous of me. And I'm not going to ask you to marry me right now when we've got a blackmailer to deal with. But Daphne, I do want to marry you; I adore you. Please tell them about me. Tell them we're serious. You can't keep paying this blackmailer."

She blanched. "Tell them? But what if they make me break up with you?"

"They won't. They can't."

"What if they cut me off? Cast me out of the family?"

He leaned forward again, and this time he pulled her out of her seat and into his lap. "Then you can be part of mine."

They sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the closeness. But soon enough, reality intruded. "I don't know how they found out about us; I mean, the eighth years know we're dating, but she was pretty specific; she mentioned us meeting here and what we do." Daphne paused, "I say 'she', I guess 'she' could be a 'he'. But the letter felt like a woman, if that makes sense."

"Has anyone ever used Legilimency on you?"

She shook her head. "Not that – wait." She sat up in his lap. "Draco said that someone was trying to use Legilimency on him the day Trallop was fired. Hermione thought there was someone in the library with her; she even had her wand out when I got there. I didn't think much about it at the time. How could I have been so stupid?" Her voice ended on a distinctly higher pitch.

"You're not stupid."

"I've been concentrating so much on finding a way to pay her off, I haven't even really been thinking about _who_ she is or _how_ she found out."

"But this is good news – that means she doesn't have any way of knowing if you told me."

Daphne got up and started pacing. "Maybe. She might still have someone in the castle that's talking to her. But we know who's not talking to her, right?"

"Harry, Hermione, Draco, definitely. Probably not Blaise or Ginny. Or Luna," Neville answered.

"Right. Do you think she'll try to blackmail Hermione? She can't be that stupid."

"No, she's not stupid, but she's arrogant. Think about it. She knows Harry's strong, and she tried to hack into _his_ mind in _front_ of us. And if she could read Hermione's, she probably didn't realize how much Harry relied Hermione because Hermione doesn't think that way."

"True. And even if she did, she'd probably write it off as Hermione exaggerating things. What happened last year, anyway? We really haven't talked about it."

Neville shrugged. "I don't even know the full story. They were on the run most of the year, and when they got here, they told me that no matter what, that snake needed to die; we didn't exactly have a bunch of time to discuss it. But Harry hasn't given me a play by play of it, you know? I think they just want to move on."

"They're so close. Have you noticed? It's beautiful. I hope Trallop's not doing this to them, too." Daphne sighed. "But she'll tell him if she gets a blackmail demand."

Neville had relaxed back into his chair once again, but sat up straight. "I think she did get one. This morning. She got a plain-looking letter and immediately started making noises about leaving, but hung around for a while. Told Harry they needed to talk. Do you have your latest note? I might recognize it, if it's from the same person."

"It's in my room. It's more of the same. She's asking for more money now, but I'm not even sure I can cover it without selling something, and my allowance doesn't come through until the middle of the month."

Rather than answering, Neville pulled out his wand and conjured his Patronus, whispered to it, and watched it as it flew away.

"What're you doing?"

"Calling Harry and Hermione. She's just revising, and he's on the Quidditch pitch. Gryffindor's team is disciplined enough to go on without him today."

"But…."

"No. I'm willing to bet Trallop is trying to do this to them, too. We can stop her, but we're going to be smart about it. If Hermione can't figure out a way around this, then no one can. But I'd be willing to bet she can. And she's ruthless."

Daphne considered what Neville said. "Hermione doesn't strike me as ruthless, but if you think it's best, I'll go get the letter and be back in few minutes."

He gave a short laugh. "She doesn't strike you as ruthless? Seriously? Don't you remember what happened to Marietta Edgecombe? She's still wearing a sneak brand for betraying Dumbledore's Army. And that's nothing compared to what she did to Rita Skeeter."

"What? What did she - You know what, never mind. I'll go get the letter."

Twenty minutes later, Hermione walked in right behind Daphne, and Harry caught the door as it was closing.

"What's so urgent?" Harry wiped the last of the sweat from his brow after he propped the Firebolt beside the door. He concentrated briefly and a two-seater couch appeared opposite the chair. He sat down after Hermione settled on the right side.

Neville looked expectantly at Daphne. She took a deep breath and plunged in. "I'm being blackmailed. We" – she gestured to Neville – "think it may be Professor Trallop."

Hermione's jaw dropped slightly, but she closed it with a snap. She reached out blindly and clasped Harry's hand. "How long?"

"I got the third one today; I can't do this much longer. I've been thinking about selling some of my jewelry to Pansy."

"Oh, Daphne." Hermione's mind was whirling.

"Was that what you got this morning, then?" Neville prompted.

Hermione gave a short nod. "But it was the first one. She wants two hundred galleons."

"Are you" – Daphne hesitated – "are you going to pay it?"

She shook her head. "We'll worry about me in a minute. Can you tell me what she's holding over your head? I swear I won't tell."

"Well, that's just it. She's threatening to go public with my relationship with Neville and all the things we've done. She knows enough to know my parents would never forgive me."

"Humph." Hermione made a sound of disgust. "Then I suppose you'll need to pay her this week. How much does she want?"

"Two hundred. She's gone up from one hundred."

"Greedy bitch, isn't she?" Harry put in.

"Yeah, and she's only going to get worse," Neville agreed. "I told Daphne to tell her parents about us and bugger the consequences."

A grim smile crossed Hermione's face. "No. I think you should pay her off. But we'll include a special galleon or two."

Daphne's eyes widened at the look on her friend's face. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I know a charm or two that will make her regret what she's done."

"Are you sure you weren't supposed to be in Slytherin?"

A grin ghosted across Harry's face. "No, not 'Mione; I was the one the Hat wanted to put in your House."

"You? But you're so _Gryffindor_."

"Now I am," he answered cryptically.

"I'm so sorry to ask, but do you have the two hundred? I know it's a lot," Hermione asked her friend, voice gentle.

"I've got it." Neville leaned forward. "I've got about fifty on hand, and I'll get to Gringotts this week for the rest. Is fifty enough for what you have in mind?"

"No, you can't –"

"No, Daphne; you wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for me. I'm going to help you get out of it."

"Best let him do it, Daph," Harry interjected. "I recognize that look; Neville can be pretty stubborn."

A sob escaped the normally calm blonde's throat, and she launched herself at her boyfriend, burying her face in his throat.

"Hey, hey, why are you crying? We've got this in hand, sweet girl," Neville murmured in her ear.

"I can't help it. I haven't been able to let go, and now it's like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders," she sniffled, voice muffled. She sat up slightly and a handkerchief appeared in her hand. She used it wipe away the remains of the tears. "What about you, Hermione? What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry about me; she's going to get her letter back."

"But what if she goes to the press with whatever she has?"

"She can go hang. First of all, we" – Hermione gestured to Harry – "haven't done anything that she can prove and what she thinks they'll print, they probably won't."

"But what if they do?" Fear crept into Daphne's voice.

"We're willing to bet she comes back with another demand first. Then, she might go to them, but we really don't think she realizes exactly whom she's messing with." Harry smirked, "She's going to find out, though."

* * *

 _Friday Morning_

 _Hermione & Daphne's Room_

Hermione watched with satisfaction as her letter disappeared. Daphne, however, viewed the twin disappearances with a great deal of trepidation.

"What did you do to them?"

"The galleons? Oh, I just charmed the ones Neville gave me earlier in the week to dye the hands of the first person who touches them."

Daphne blanched. "I have to tell my parents, don't I?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Neville offered to marry me this weekend. It'd stop the contract, and all my parents could do is disinherit me." She shrugged. "But I don't care about the money."

"Is that what you want?"

"No. I mean, yes; I want to marry him, but ever since I was a little girl, I've wanted to have a big wedding with family and friends around us. And a big party afterward. Wouldn't it be amazing? To be married on the summer solstice, surrounded by everyone?"

Hermione smiled. Obviously, Daphne had dreams for her wedding. She'd prefer something more along the lines of what Sirius and Kate's wedding: small and intimate. "What did you tell him?"

"That I'd think about it."

"And?"

The dreamy expression on her face cleared. "I'm going to go talk to him now. I know what I want us to do."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading, and as always, your kind words are much appreciated.


	20. Chapter 20

**Beta Love** : glitterally

* * *

 **Ch. 20**

 _Early Saturday Morning_

 _Daphne & Hermione's Room_

Hermione stirred as Daphne closed the door behind her but, thinking that she was just going to the bath, she rolled back over and went back to sleep.

When she met Harry for in the common room two hours later, she knew better. Neither Neville nor Daphne were anywhere to be found.

"Any idea where they are?" he asked.

She relayed what Daphne had said the previous night and then continued, "Are we going to try to get Sirius and Kate today? I think they're due back this morning."

They stood close together, chest to chest, hands clasped. Harry leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. "I say we try this afternoon. They'll be pissed we didn't try to call them back from their honeymoon." He disentangled his hands from hers and skimmed them up the outside of her arms. "I'd rather find something else to do with you today than worry about the bitch, though. Want to," he stopped to kiss her again as his hands circled around her back and pulled her closer. Involuntarily she slid her hands around his waist and clasped them at the small of his back. "Want to go into Hogsmeade this morning? We can visit the bookstore."

She smiled against his lips. "You do know the way to my heart, Mr. Potter. We can face our problems later."

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

 _Rouen, France_

Zoe Trallop stacked the last of the galleons the Greengrass chit had sent in her safe and smirked in satisfaction. The smirk faded as she considered the letter that had arrived with no payment. Apparently, _Hermione Black_ thought she'd get away with that. Perhaps she needed more motivation to be willing to part with her galleons. But it was going to cost more, and the press would hear about her secrets no matter what. It was time to make a Floo call to her contact at the Prophet.

* * *

 _11:00am_

 _Ministry for Magic_

 _London_

The tiny witch in the Department of Bondings and Marriage peered at them over her half-moon glasses, eyes twinkling in the manner of the departed Dumbledore. "And how may I help you two young people?"

"I'd like to procure a wedding licence for the two of us, please. And we'd like to be married as soon as practicable," Neville answered.

"Names, please?"

"Neville Franklin Longbottom and Daphne Aurora Greengrass."

The official's eyebrows raised almost into her hairline. "A wedding licence? Are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Daphne said firmly.

"Very well; please fill out this paperwork. The licence will be ten galleons; the officiant will charge another fifteen. When you're done, just bring this back to me, and we'll get started."

In silence they took the proffered paperwork and began filling it out. Daphne slowed as she reached the end of her half, the quill moving more slowly until it stopped altogether. "Neville, would you be angry with me if I didn't want to get married today?"

"Godric, no. I'd be hurt if you didn't want to marry me at all. I know this isn't the wedding of your dreams, and I'd love to give that to you."

"I need to tell my parents. I have to stand up to them."

"Are you sure?" He carefully placed the quill to the side and brought her hand to his mouth to kiss it quickly. "You know I'll stand by whatever you decide."

"Let's get the licence. Then we can get married anytime we like. But I owe it my parents - I owe it _us_ \- to tell them."

"Okay."

They filled out the remainder of the paperwork and Apparated to her London home, wedding licence tucked safely in Neville's jacket pocket. If they'd stayed just a few more minutes, they'd have seen a very familiar pair of blonds entering the same small office.

* * *

 _Malfoy Manor_

 _Wiltshire, England_

"You've done _what_?" Venom dripped from Lucius's tone as he faced his only son, his heir, the scion of House Malfoy.

"Luna and I were married this morning at the Ministry for Magic. I hope you'll accept her as my wife and the future mother of the Malfoy heirs."

"You - "

"Let's all take a step back and discuss this." Narcissa interrupted Lucius's next sentence. "Draco, is Miss Lovegood with you today?"

Draco's lips quirked at the intentional reference to Luna by her maiden name. "Actually, Mother, she's back at Hogwarts. I wanted make certain of her welcome before I brought her here."

"Son, you realize you were betrothed to Daphne. We gave our word you would marry her."

"Yes; I'm quite aware of the contract Father signed when I was eleven and, while I'm fond of Daphne, I have no desire to be married to her. She wants to marry someone else as well."

Lucius surged to his feet. "She wants to marry someone else? That's an insult and not to be borne!"

Narcissa sighed heavily. "Lucius, I believe that is beside the point at this juncture. Please, let's discuss this as rational adults."

Draco waited in silence for her to address him again.

"Darling, we can't simply break our word to the Greengrass family. You realize you must get an annulment. Rest assured they will not allow Daphne to marry outside this betrothal."

"I believe they will, and an annulment is not possible."

"What do you mean, it's not possible? It was a civil service, of course it's…," her voice trailed off as Draco began shaking his head.

"We had the officiant perform the _unitatas sponsus_ , Mother. We can't go back."

"You will no longer be as my son," Lucius thundered.

"You're disinheriting me?"

"You're no longer welcome here, you ingrate. Do you realize what your mother risked to save your life? She lied to the Dark Lord!"

"And why was she in that position, Father?"

"What?"

"Why was she in that position? _You_ put her in that position - _you_ put us all in that position - to have to live with Voldemort, to serve Voldemort. That was _your_ fault. And I'll be damned if I allow you to dictate my life further!"

"Stop it! Just, stop it!" Narcissa begged them both.

"No, Mother, this needs to be said. Father raised me to believe horrible things, false things. He risked everything to support a madman! Voldemort" - Draco smirked when they both winced at the name - "wasn't even a Pureblood, and we followed him like sheep. Potter was right all along, and I'm not going to be a part of it anymore." He took a more conciliatory tone. "Luna's family isn't in the Sacred Twenty-Eight, no, but she's a Pureblood. Her father owns a paper. Think of the advantages; she's a war heroine, and we're trying to rehabilitate the Malfoy name from the war. I've made a very good match." He turned to face his father. "You can disinherit me, but it'll be all over the papers. Is that what you want? Or would you rather give us a smaller Malfoy residence to live in? She doesn't even want to live here, but she would - for me. Wouldn't it be better for us to have her in the family?"

"He makes a good point," Narcissa pointed out to her husband. "She could be of some use to us. After all, if she can forgive us, then shouldn't the rest of society? And Draco is now friends with the Potter boy-" She plowed on despite the sneer on Lucius's face. "Really, darling, you must accept this. I will handle communication with the Greengrass family. Offer to help them find a husband for Daphne. Perhaps that nice Zabini boy."

He ground his teeth. "You are to bring her to dinner tonight. We'll make an announcement in her newspaper tomorrow and the Prophet on Monday. And when you're done with school, you can live in the Rectory." He named the smallest of the Malfoy residences in Prawle's Pointe.

Draco permitted himself a small smile. "Excellent. We'll be here at seven?" He looked to his mother for confirmation.

She nodded. "Yes. We'll dine at half past."

* * *

 _12½ Brook Street_

 _London_

Daphne led the way up the stairs to the obviously magical residence. Neville nervously straightened his jacket and buttoned it as she opened the door.

"Hello, Doodles. Are my parents home?" she leaned down and asked the neat house elf, dressed in a tea towel.

"Yes, Missy Daphne. They are in the morning room. Can I take your coats? Young sir? Your coat?"

Before they could hand over their coats, Daphne's mother, Aurora, emerged from a side room.

"Daphne, sweet! I thought I felt you cross the wards!" Her smile faltered when she saw Neville beside her eldest daughter, but she came forward and exchanged cheek kisses. "And who is this young man?"

"Mother, I'd like to introduce you to Neville Longbottom." She took a deep breath. "He's my boyfriend. He's more than that, actually; he's my fiance."

Neville had to admire how quickly his future mother-in-law recovered. "It's certainly a pleasure to meet you, Neville, is it? Augusta Longbottom's grandson?"

He held out his hand to shake it. "Yes, ma'am. It's an honor to finally meet Daphne's parents. I'm afraid we have quite a story to tell."

"Well, you perceive me all ears, young man. Come with me, and we'll all talk in the morning room. I'm afraid this may not be as simple as you seem to think."

* * *

 _Afternoon_

 _Eighths' Common Room_

"How did you get them to accept it?" Luna asked.

"I just pointed out that you're a war heroine, and that if you could forgive us for everything that happened during the war, that would go quite a long way to repairing the damaged Malfoy name." Draco shrugged. "And the paper helped."

"You're so smart. Are you sure you weren't supposed to be in Ravenclaw?"

"Quite sure. Now, we've got to go to a formal dinner tonight. Are you ready for that?"

"Of course. I've been wanting to clear the Nargles out of the dining room for ages. They were ever so thick in there when Voldemort lived at your house."

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

 _Grimmauld Place_

"She did what?" Sirius roared.

"You heard us."

"Why didn't you contact me immediately?"

"Because we didn't want to interrupt your honeymoon!" Hermione snapped.

"Of all the ridiculous things! Of course you needed to interrupt our honeymoon - this is important!"

"Sirius." Kate stopped the incipient rant with a hand on his arm. "It's done. Let's find out what exactly happened and decide how to proceed. Now, Hermione, Harry: tell us what happened."

"Well, last Sunday, I got a blackmail demand. This blackmailer, whom we believe to be the former Professor Trallop, sent a note demanding two hundred galleons by yesterday in a return Portkey or she'd tell the world about how we lived in a tent together last year, and that Harry was a Horcrux."

Kate started to rub Sirius's arm in attempt to keep him calm. "Okay. And what did you do?"

"We let the Portkey go back empty."

"So she may be attempting to sell this information now," Kate surmised.

"How did she find this out?" Sirius seethed.

Hermione let out a sigh. "I think she used Legilimency on me."

"I'm going to kill her."

"No, you're not. We're going to contact Kingsley, and she's going to spend some time in Azkaban," Kate rebuked him.

"We still have to prove she did it. And find her!"

"Well, I may have placed a tracking charm on the Portkey. Also the blackmail money that Daphne paid _may_ have had a slow-acting permanent ink on it that _may_ dye her hands red."

Kate smiled. "So she's literally going to be caught red-handed?" Hermione nodded. "Oh, that's genius. Wait, she was attempting to blackmail Daphne Greengrass, too?" Another nod. "She's a greedy one, isn't she? Alright; Let's get in touch with Kingsley, and then we can have a nice dinner. If we go out to eat in Diagon Alley, that'll give the press something legitimate to talk about on the society page." She stepped quickly to the fireplace, threw Floor power into the fire, and called out "Shacklebolt Grange!"

While Kate was bringing Kingsley up to date, Sirius drew Hermione aside. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you. I know I've been acting unreasonable recently, but I like to think I'm getting more even-keeled these days. Kate's really helped me see how difficult I was being; can you forgive me? Maybe we can take the time to really get to know each other, aside from through Harry. I don't want you to feel that I don't love you or care about you, even though there's a baby on the way."

"I, ahh, well," Hermione stammered, "I think I'd like that, Sirius."

"Then maybe you'll come here during the Christmas break?" he asked hopefully.

"That might be a little overwhelming." At his crestfallen face, she hastened to add, "but I'd love to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with you, if that's okay."

Sirius gave a small smile. "That would be wonderful." He cupped her cheek with his hand and brushed it gently with his thumb. "You remind me so much of Mary, and it's not just looks. She'd be so proud of the witch you've become." He dropped his hand and continued briskly, "Now, Kate has reminded me that I've been very remiss. I've added an automatic deposit to your Gringotts account as a monthly allowance. She read me the riot act, I'll have you know. And she was right; I've been a rubbish father. I want all the privileges of being a dad out of nowhere and then don't even help to support my daughter."

"That's really unnecessary," she protested.

"It may not be necessary, but I'm doing it anyway. And if you don't want the money, just save it for your kids one day."

"No, but - "

"Please let me do this. It's little enough."

Hermione searched his face but saw only an earnest desire to do the right thing. "Okay. Thank you."

* * *

 _Late Night_

 _Eighths' Tower_

Daphne launched herself at Hermione as soon as she and Harry emerged from the Floo. "We did it! We did it! You've missed so much!"

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, voice muffled against Daphne's shoulder.

She let go. "We told my parents! And you're not going to believe it - Draco married Luna today!"

"What?" Harry and Hermione chorused.

"He did. It was brilliant timing. We were talking to my parents, who were trying to be so polite in front of Neville."

"Really, they were," he agreed.

"And then, out of nowhere, Doodles delivered an urgent message from Narcissa Malfoy. And they had a complete turnaround."

"Did you warn them about the blackmail?" Harry asked.

"No, we're announcing our engagement in tomorrow's paper, so if she does say something, then it's just normal behavior between an engaged couple, right? And look" - Daphne extended her left hand - "Isn't it gorgeous? The center stone is a pink sapphire. I love it!"

On her ring finger glimmered a gorgeous three-stone ring set in platinum. The clear diamonds on the side set off the vibrant center stone.

"It's official? You're engaged? Congratulations!" Hermione hugged her roommate while Harry shook Neville's hand. "Have you set a date?"

"The summer solstice. You have to be there. We're going shopping for dresses soon; say you'll come with me."

"Before you two start planning shopping trips, uh, what's this about Malfoy marrying Luna today?" Harry interrupted.

"He did, mate. And Daphne jumped in with you remember Neville from the papers; he's the one who stood up to Voldemort when everyone thought Harry was dead'. They went from 'I think there's been a misunderstanding' to 'we're very pleased to meet you, please tell us about your relationship.'"

"So, it's all worked out? What did your nan say, Neville?"

"She's just happy for us; she's known for ages."

"Where's Malfoy?"

"He and the new bride are staying at their house tonight."

* * *

 _Sunday Morning_

 _Rouen, France_

"Ahhhhh!" A scream rent the air when Zoe Trallop looked at her hands. They were red, and her palms itched ferociously. "That bitch!"

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

 _Hogwarts_

The nondescript owl dropped Hermione and Daphne the now-familiar letters followed closely by _Prophet_ delivery owls. By mutual agreement, they ignored the letters and flipped to the society section of the paper. The headline was Daphne and Neville's engagement, complete with a photo of them looking blissfully happy. The _Quibbler_ owls carried the news of Draco and Luna's marriage on its front page. The whispers grew to a roar as congratulations flew fast and furious across the room.

Once back in the Eighths' Tower, Hermione and Daphne both read their letters.

"Nothing new in mine except a demand for another two hundred fifty galleons this week," Daphne reported.

Hermione smirked. "She's pissed."

 _Miss Black,_

 _Obviously you did not believe me, and you'll pay for that. The Prophet has been alerted to just one of your little secrets. Perhaps that will convince you to take me seriously. You'll have to wait to see what your punishment is for not heeding me, but in order to keep the remainder of your secrets safe, you will need to send five hundred galleons. Don't make the mistake of thinking I won't expose all your dirty little secrets._

 _Until Friday._

"She's told the Prophet something? What are you doing to do?"

"Not a damn thing. If she thinks telling people anything she got from me is going to make me cave, she's got another think coming. She's the one who'll regret this stunt, not me." Hermione paused thoughtfully. "I bet the ink's reacting now. I wonder if she's enjoying her red hands and itchy palms."

* * *

Thanks for reading! As always, reviews are appreciated it if you enjoyed the chapter.


	21. Chapter 21

**Beta love:** _glitterally_

 **Disclaimer:** _HP and the world of HP are not_ mine _and I make no money from the penning and posting of this story._

* * *

 **Ch. 21**

 _Sunday Evening_

 _Eighths' Table_

 _The Great Hall_

"You know, it's England v France over the hols, and we said we'd go to a match. Do you want to to? It's on the Isle of Wight this year," Harry asked Hermione, who nodded quickly. "And Ron could get us good seats."

"That's right!" Neville overheard him and, excited, turned to Daphne. "You'll go, yeah? I think we'd have a good time." Before Daphne or Hermione could answer, all of the wizards at the table were murmuring assent.

"I know Luna'd love it. We're in," Draco said.

"Everyone wants to go?" Harry looked around, surprised. "Right then; I'll owl Ron tonight."

"We all need matching scarves. I'll be in charge of getting those," Hannah put in.

Pansy smirked. "I'll help. If we can get them ordered by Tuesday, they'll be here in plenty of time."

"I'll call the Ministry about a Portkey, and we can Apparate back."

"Or we could camp overnight. I bet they'll have the grounds set up. Then get a Portkey back the next day."

Hermione's mouth ticked up on the side. "We could charm a tent to use."

"So, Malfoy, what's McGonagall going to do about you being married?" Terry asked as the chatter about the logistics of attending the game died down. "Is Luna going to move into your room? What about Harry? That'd be awkward."

"She's thinking about it. She wasn't too pleased that we didn't wait to get married, but she knows we have the right to be together." Draco smirked. "Potter might have to room with you."

Harry shrugged. "That'd be fine with me. Or they could convert an empty classroom on the floor for you. Then I'd get a single, and that's perfect."

"I doubt that'd be necessary," Hermione mused. "They'll probably gather the professors and perform the _dilatatio structuram_. Of course, with the way the tower's built, they'd probably add two rooms for the structure to remain balanced, and they'll need time to get the materials here." She shrugged and went back to her salad.

"Blimey, Hermione, how do you know that?" Neville gasped.

"I read it. I was curious about how they added the tower so quickly." She cocked her head to the side as she considered him. "You weren't?"

"That's the Hermione I know and love." Harry planted a brief kiss on her cheek. "Always looking for answers."

Before she could answer, two owls swooped in with official-looking envelopes for them both. They exchanged a speaking glance, and she tucked them both in her bag to read later.

Justin couldn't contain his curiosity. "What were those?"

"Just bollocks from the Prophet. Nothing to worry about," Harry assured him.

The letters were requests for comment on a tip the Prophet received about their time living in the tent. Hermione directed them to Sirius for comment, but Harry took a more direct approach.

 _To the editors of the Daily Prophet:_

 _I have no comment on the preposterous allegations set forth in this so-called 'tip' your paper received. Further, if I see even a single word in print regarding this rubbish, I will sue you for defamation of character, slander, and libel. If you have further questions regarding this matter and continue pester me with them, I will notify the Ministry for Magic and have you cited for harassment._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Harry J. Potter, Order of Merlin First Class_

"I like it." Harry nodded. "I think they'll get the point. And you don't think adding the bit about the Order of Merlin is too much?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. I think they need to be reminded whom they're dealing with. And Sirius is going to set the solicitors on them, so I think we're good."

Nothing appeared in the paper that week.

* * *

 _Monday Afternoon_

 _The Great Hall_

"Calm down, Hermione; we can make this work. You've got all the decoration charts and the music planned; I've got the menus and arranged for the food with the kitchens. It's going to go off, even if we don't have quite the right number of candles or icicles," Ginny reassured her. "Now, let's go over the floor plan one more time, the tent placement, and I say we call it good until Saturday after breakfast."

Outside, materials began arriving to expand the Eighths' Tower; the delivery of several tons of stone seemed a bit excessive, but no one questioned the Headmistress.

That evening, the faculty gathered in the Eighth's common room and constructed an upstairs tower with a pair of stairs on either side of the Floo leading to eight new rooms, four on the right and four on the left. Draco and Luna had first choice of new rooms, leaving Harry with a single that suited him perfectly.

* * *

 _Wednesday Mid-Morning_

 _Rouen, France_

Trallop tossed aside the copy of the Prophet in disgust. _Nothing._ First that Greengrass brat announced her engagement to Neville Longbottom, blunting any threat, and now the paper was refusing to print the very juicy tale of Black in the tent with two teenage boys for weeks. Her plan had gone sideways. How much worse could this get? She was beginning to reconsider having gone after the know-it-all. That bushy-haired witch was the one responsible for dye on her hands, and the horrible itching that _wouldn't go away_ , and the constantly raw, bleeding palms. The itching and, consequently, the bleeding got worse every time she touched money - any money. At this rate, she'd have to wear gloves for the rest of her life!

* * *

 _Friday_

 _Rouen, France_

The two Aurors, a male and a female, arrived with wands at the ready, Portkeys in hand.

"Good morning, Professor, or should I say _former_ Professor Trallop? You're under arrest for extortion, attempted extortion, and the illegal use of Legilimency."

Shocked, Zoe Trallop lunged for her wand on the table a few feet away.

" _Petrificus Totalus_!" Frozen, she overbalanced and landed on her face, breaking her perfect nose.

"They always go for the wand. Why do they always go for the wand?"

* * *

 _Friday Evening_

 _Hogwarts_

A letter drifted onto Hermione's plate.

 _Miss Black,_

 _Please meet me in my office after dinner this evening at 7:30. Bring Miss Greengrass as well. The password is fortitude._

 _M.M._

Silently she handed it over to Harry; he read it while she told Daphne about the impending appointment.

"I'll wait for you at the bottom of the stairs," Harry said when he gave her the note back. "I'm sure they've got her now."

Hermione confirmed his suspicions when she and Daphne met Neville and Harry after the meeting. "They're holding her over at Azkaban for a private trial before the Wizengamot."

* * *

 _Saturday Afternoon_

 _Hogwarts_

"I think we're good." Ginny waved over the Gryffindor committee. "Anything else? The band is setting up outside in the tent by the dance floor. The food will be here with the formal dinner for all students, then Fourth years and up will be able to go to the dance. We're finished decorating in here. What do you think?"

Hermione nodded as she made a final check of her list. "We're done. But, let's meet tomorrow afternoon to discuss how it went, see if we want to make it a tradition to have a formal dinner beforehand so everyone can enjoy the Yule before the winter break."

* * *

 _Eighths Tower_

 _Before the Ball_

Hermione turned slowly in front of Daphne, showing her every detail of her dress. "So, what do you think?"

"It's gorgeous. The black lace over the cream is sublime. Harry's going to want to take it off of you."

"Me? What about you? Neville'll be hard pressed to keep his hands to himself." Hermione gestured to Daphne's vibrant blue, one-shoulder column dress. "You look stunning."

"Thank you. Now, let's go show them how lucky they are."

* * *

 _Midnight_

 _Yule Ball_

Harry and Hermione rotated in a slow circle near the center of the almost empty dance floor. Detritus from the earlier fountain incident lay, forlorn, on the ground.

"You were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight," Harry murmured her ear, his hands clasped loosely at the base of her spine, riding just above the curve of her bum.

She pressed her cheek into the curve where his neck met his shoulders. "Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself, Mr. Potter."

"I have a very important question to ask you."

Hermione stiffened infinitesimally, "What's wrong?"

"Can we leave now, maybe sneak away before the Truffle and Kiwi play their last tune? I want to spend some time alone with you."

She chewed on her lip, briefly. "Well…."

"Well, nothing. Ginny is Head Girl. She can handle this." He leaned down and nipped her ear, sending tingles down her spine. "Unless you just want to stay and dance to the band's latest hit? The one we can hear every other song on the wireless?"

"But, the Headmistress…."

"Won't mind if you let the Head Girl do her job."

"You just want Blaise to suffer because he charmed that fountain, and that poor Hufflepuff tried to kiss me."

"Maybe." Harry grinned and amusement flashed in his emerald green eyes. "But I really would like to kiss you. The fact that Zabini will be here at all hours is just a bonus."

"You've got a mean streak in you; you know that, right?"

"Well, the Hat did want to put me in Slytherin."

"Did it really? I mean, you're just so obviously a Gryffindor."

He shrugged. "Now, maybe. But when I was eleven? I was a Horcrux. And I'd have done anything to get away from the Dursleys. I learned very early on to take care of myself, so maybe it wasn't as much of a stretch as it seems. You saved me. Ron, his family, this school. You all saved me." He glanced around again, "Now, let's leave before you get roped into cleaning up this mess."

"But…," She looked around, voice trailing off. In one corner, the fountain had met with complete destruction when someone lost their inhibitions and attempted to kiss the wrong person's date. In the other, the water was leaking steadily from where an exuberant foot dancing a jig had put a hole in it just at the water line. Draco had been responsible for that charm. All in all, she was glad they'd conjured the massive tent rather than subjecting the Great Hall to the revelry that had been the Yule Ball.

"Come on, Hermione; come with me." Harry took a step back and held out his hand. "I promise, the clean-up crew can handle this. You've earned the free time."

She glanced around one more time, wincing at a fifth year who was still belting out the Hogwarts song between verses of Truffle and Kiwi's song. She placed her hand in his. "Where are we going?"

"I thought we'd try the RoR," he answered as he pulled her towards the door leading to the Great Hall and the school proper.

"You're kidding; you know Neville left with Daphne ages ago."

"Damn." His brow furrowed.

Hermione giggled at the chagrin in his voice. "Have you forgotten you have a single now? And that we've caught our blackmailer?"

Face clearing, he grinned a bit lasciviously. "That's right, I do have a single, but what did _you_ have in mind that we would need so much privacy?"

"Hey, Harry! Hold up!" Ernie McMillan, on campus to escort Hannah to the Ball, entered the Great Hall with Hannah in tow. "I thought we could all catch up. Where are you headed?"

"Uhh, well, we'd thought to head back to the Tower."

"Great, we'll go with you!" He kept up a stream of chatter as they made their way to the Eighths' Tower. "Have you heard that the Ministry is discussing a Marriage Law? The last census had all bad news."

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, causing a small pile-up as Hannah failed to stop in time, bumping into her. "What was that?"

"Yeah, I'm working in the census office, and with everyone who died, well, it doesn't look good."

"But a Marriage Law? What's that? It sounds barbaric! A violation of Human Rights!"

Harry groaned softly. So much for any fun activities. "Way to go, MacMillan."

"Well, I don't think they have enough information to actually _do_ anything yet. It was just one census. Really, the population drop was to be expected, right?"

Harry seized the moment. "Exactly, so nothing we need to worry about right now, is it?" They stopped in front of their portrait where Sir Cadogan was chatting with a group of Quidditch players. "Plimpton Pass."

"Hey! Welcome back! Nice threads! Wouldn't want to wear those when you're trying for the Snitch!" The players in the painting cheered them as it swung open, revealing the cheerful environs. Draco, still wearing his dress robes, turned around to greet them, Firewhiskey bottle in hand, arm draped around Luna's shoulders.

"Perfect! Blaise just got back and we don't want to drink alone. He's gone to get the glasses."

"Shouldn't Blaise be helping clean up the mess he made?"

"Please, Potter, you underestimate him. He's got that all taken care of. What are younger students for?"

Blaise appeared in his door, promised glasses in hand, and raised his eyebrows at the extra people. "I don't think I brought enough. Be right back." He returned moments later with enough for everyone. "Well, what are you lot waiting on? The Hogwarts Express? Sit down. Get comfortable."

An hour later, high heeled shoes were strewn about the floor, dress robe coats were tossed carelessly over the backs of the furnitures, and all of them were feeling the mellow glow of aged Firewhiskey.

"See, I told you this would be better than spiking the punch bowl." Draco smirked at Blaise. "Your kissing charm was genius, though."

"You just think it's funny because no one tried to kiss your wife, Malfoy. Some fourth year idiot Hufflepuff - no offense -" Harry tossed in the direction of the Hufflepuffs curled on the two seater.

"None taken." Ernie waved his glass in Harry's general direction as Hannah rolled her eyes.

"Tried to kiss Hermione."

"You know I can take care of myself." Hermione, legs draped across his with her body snugged up against him, leaned up slightly to kiss him on the cheek. But, instead of landing the kiss where she'd intended he whipped his head around to catch her lips in a kiss that held.

"Yeah, I do know that." His lips kicked up in a small smile. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it when you get accosted by fourth years."

"Break it up you two." Blaise's lazy voice intruded. "Some of us don't have anyone to snog with, so we'd just as soon not watch you two suck face."

"Serves you right." Hermione sniffed. "I'm glad Ginny's not here - it was your fault we had to break up a makeout corner in the first place."

"Oh come on, Gran - Black. That was funny and you know it," Blaise argued.

A low creak from the portrait opening had them all lowering their drinks below eye level. "Oh, it's just you two. Come on in." Draco waved Neville and Daphne over. "No need to ask where you've been. Care for a drink?"

Daphne flushed. "Really, Draco. Be nice."

"I am being nice! I offered you a drink of my father's finest Firewhiskey. Now here - take it." He handed them both a measure of the intoxicating spirit.

Neville draped his coat over the back of his favorite two-seater and sat down with Daphne, draping his arm over her shoulders. "What are we drinking to?"

"To a Yule Ball that was much more fun than the one back in fourth year," Justin, who'd been largely silent to that point, answered.

"Hear, hear!" Terry toasted. "To the Yule Ball!"

"Yeah, I have to give it to the Gryffindors. They do know how to throw a party."

"If you like that kind of thing," Pansy sniffed. "The Graduation Ball is going to be much more refined."

"I rather enjoyed the enchanted bubbles. And the fountains were a lovely touch." Luna's voice was dreamier than usual. "It's really a shame more people didn't touch the water in the music fountain. We could have had a lovely chorus for the Hogwarts song."

"One of you lot " - Neville waved his drink-laden hand at the Slytherins - "needs to get your House in order. Some fifth year tried to kiss Daphne."

"I think it happened to all of us," Hannah put in, glancing around the room for confirmation. "What was that enchantment, Blaise?"

He shrugged. "It just had the power to suggest that you should find your secret, well, crush, for lack a better word, and to kiss them. Seems harmless enough. If you were strong minded enough, you wouldn't do it."

"That's hilarious." Ernie snickered into his drink as he watched Luna stand and dance around Draco's chair, slowly drawing the golden chains on her dress over his chest and neck. "Maybe I should have come back. Why don't we play a drinking game?"

"No." Daphne, Hermione, and Hannah all vetoed the suggestion.

Twenty minutes and a heated kiss later, Hermione closed her door behind her and Daphne. She sighed. "I'm tired of waiting, Daphne, but I don't feel right staying with him while we're here."

"Why _have_ you been waiting?" Daphne, looking in her mirror while taking off her earrings, met Hermione's eyes. She turned around. "I mean, you've had opportunities, right? And you lived with two boys for months. And there was Krum. With everything you've said about Muggle society, it seems like you'd have taken a chance with one of them."

"Well, I know I lived with Ron and Harry, but it was both of them. And I wasn't going to have my first time be like that, you know? And Krum? I was a kid. And I wanted it to be special, you know?"

"I do. But you're so independent and smart and worldly. Sex - well, it just seems like something you'd have already tried."

"Yes, I'm all those things." She shrugged. "But I wasn't ready to take that step before. Now I am - I just don't want to take it _here_ , at school. Do you know what I mean?"

Daphne nodded. "I get that. Do you think Harry understands?"

Hermione laughed out loud. "If there's one person on the planet who gets me, it's Harry Potter. Trust me, he understands."

* * *

Thanks for sticking with me, my beautiful readers! I hope you liked the chapter. If you did, let me know! We're coming to a close soon - I think we'll get to Ch. 25. :)


	22. Chapter 22

_**Beta Love** : Glitterally_

 _ **A/N** : Glitter did go over this chapter, but I added a chunk of material that she hasn't yet seen. Any grammar mistakes, errors, etc are mine alone. If you see something egregious, then please PM me to let me know. _

_Disclaimer: As always, HP is not my property. I make no money from the writing and posting of this story._

* * *

 _Eighths' Tower_

 _Late Afternoon, Friday_

Hannah and Pansy handed out scarves to each of them, white cashmere with the George cross, while Hermione and Harry handled logistics.

"Everyone have their bags? I've got the tent."

"Uh, not to be picky or anything, but is that bag even legal?" Justin pointed hesitantly to Hermione's back pack into which Harry was packing quite a bit of gear. Enough gear, in fact, to be impossible to fit in a normal bag of that size.

Her lips twisted slightly. "It's a gray area; now, I've got the tent and everything we need for inside it. But you all might want to take extra blankets; it's going to be cold on the Isle of Wight at night."

Harry picked up the narrative. "We're Flooing to the Three Broomsticks, and from there we'll take a Portkey to the Isle of Wight. After the match, we can Apparate into Hogsmeade and return from there. Any questions?"

"I'm glad you decided to Portkey us to the match; it'd be a shame if Susan got lost and ended up on the Isle of Man instead."

Susan, rather being offended, laughed at Luna's comment. "It's been known to happen. I'd rather Portkey any day, myself."

"Everyone ready, then? Portkey leaves in half an hour. Let's go." One by one, they Flooed to the restaurant in Hogsmeade to catch their ride, an old pink umbrella, to the Quidditch match.

* * *

 _Friday Evening_

 _Isle of Wight_

"Malfoy, give me a hand with this."

"You've got to be joking, Potter. I don't do manual labor."

"Do you want to sleep outside, then?"

"Oh bugger off, give me the damn - what is that thing anyway?"

"It's a tent stake, genius. Now walk as far you you can in that direction and put it in the ground."

Another thirty minutes and some minor bickering later, the tent was ready to go. True to wizarding form, the tent was much larger on the inside and the beds were already set up.

"Why did I agree to spend the night in a tent?" Draco moaned softly into Luna's ear, his arms wrapped around her waist. "We could have stayed somewhere else and just Apparated here in the morning."

"Don't be silly; you agreed to do this because deep down you think it will be fun." Her eyes twinkled and she rose on her toes to nibble at his ear. "And besides, _I_ wanted to do this. Think how grateful I'll be." She placed quick little kisses along his jaw, sending quick jolts down his spine.

"Oi, you two! Break it up! If no one else can make out with significant others, then you can't either, Malfoy."

"Bugger off, Longbottom; can't you see we're busy here?" Draco groaned and adjusted himself before turning around to face his tormenter.

"Yeah, I can, but we're waiting on you two to go eat, so be busy later." He turned around to leave the tent. "And be busy alone and quietly later." The last was thrown over his shoulder as the tent flap swooshed down.

* * *

 _The Quidditch Match_

 _Team Area_

Ron tried to calm his pounding heart. Finally, he was getting a chance to start. Granted, France wasn't exactly top tier this year, but a start was a start. And Harry and Hermione were finally able to make it to a game. He mounted his broom and kicked off as he heard the announcer begin introductions.

"And for England…at Keeper…Ronald Weasley!" The crowd clad in white and red roared in approval as he circled the pitch at top speed. He thought he saw the familiar glint of Harry's glasses beside a curly-haired brunette. Hermione. The brightest witch of her age. And Ron would tell anyone who'd listen she was also one of the strongest. He continued a final lap, more slowly this time, and threw a kiss in her direction. He saw her laugh and return the gesture as he flew by towards his end of the pitch. When it came down to it, they both knew they were best as friends, and he was honestly happy for her and Harry. But when he was being honest with himself, he knew he wanted a relationship too. All thoughts of dating flew out of his head as he settled in front of the rings.

"And they're off!" The Snitch was up and away. Ron immediately dismissed the thought of the fleet golden ball. It was the Seeker's problem, not his. His problem was the Quaffle headed his way. The Chaser threw the ball, and he easily caught it and tossed it to an open Chaser.

"And Weasley saves a goal for England! Now back to the Warner who passes to Heatherington. He shoots - he scores! Heatherington sends one right past La Salle for a score. England up ten to nothing here in the early going. We've got the Quaffle in motion, coming back down the pitch. Watch out for that Bludger! Devereux takes a nasty hit, but keeps the Quaffle."

Ron's vision narrowed to only the Quaffle and the Bludger, and the rest of the game passed in a blur. By the time the match ended an hour and a half later with England's seeker triumphantly holding the Snitch aloft, Ron had only allowed ten goals for a final score of 410 to 100.

Ron was still flush from victory even two hours later when he headed to meet his friends at their tent. Hermione spotted him first and ran towards him, flinging herself into his arms.

"You were brilliant, Ron!"

Harry arrived on her heels and waited impatiently for him to put Hermione back on the ground. "Alright, mate. Put my girlfriend down." As they were shaking hands and slapping backs, he continued, "but she's right, you were bloody brilliant out there."

"Thanks! It just worked, you know." They quickly got lost in the camaraderie of their years-long friendship as they made their way back to the tent and the rest of Hogwarts crew.

Ginny elbowed them out of the way. "You really did a great job out there." She hugged him and then stepped back. "But you could have saved that eighth one, you know."

"Let him be, Red." Blaise appeared at her side. "He saved some tough ones. Nice match, Weasley."

Ron sized up the man who was dating his younger sister. "Thanks, Zabini. Good of you to come."

"Wouldn't have missed it. When this lot started talking about coming over, well, here we all are. All of Hogwarts Houses have representatives cheering you on."

They arrived at the tent flap and stepped inside. Ron took in the surroundings with a glance. "Nice setup. Feels like home." He shot Hermione a sideways glance - "Did you pack this in a beaded handbag?"

"No, Ronald. Of course not," she sniffed.

"Yeah, she used a backpack this time." Harry snickered beside him.

Ron rocked slightly when Hannah, who was headed to say hello, tripped over a stray bag on the floor and landed in his arms. She gasped and inhaled the scent of Quidditch leathers, broom polish, grass, and an elusive note of ginger. "Oh," she said faintly.

"Hannah, isn't it? Are you alright? Good?"

She smiled quickly. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Great match today! Are you going to stay around, have dinner with us?"

* * *

 _Wednesday Afternoon_

 _Grimmauld Place_

"Are you ready?" Sirius asked Harry. At the nod, he took Harry's arm and apparated them to a pair of worn front gates with a "Keep Out, No Trespassing" sign hung haphazardly on the bars. "Just as I remember it. Now, let's see if we can get through the wards."

Sirius took a step forward and the gate opened easily, but as soon as he was clear, it closed behind him. He turned around and motioned Harry forward. "I'm fairly certain you'll be able to come through. Just step ahead, the gate will open if you can."

Harry hesitated - what if the Hall didn't recognize him? But after a moment, he took a step forward. The gate started to swing open, stalled as if thinking about something - just long enough to make Harry panic, and then swung wide, welcoming him home. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Thank Godric." He stepped through onto the cobblestone lane leading toward a bend, the view obscured by a copse of trees. As he and Sirius drew closer he realized quickly that he was looking at a massive stand of, if the leaves were any indication, very old hollies that had been allowed to grow wild for a long time. He stepped into the trees, stopped, and turned slowly, taking in the wildness of it.

"Harry." Sirius drew his attention. "Shall we?" He pointed back to the lane.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Taking one last look around, Harry headed back to the lane and the house at the end. As soon as they turned the bend, a shimmer cleared, and a large home materialized. It was red brick with once-white quoins on the corners, discolored by time and weather. The worn facade covered a home that was obviously empty, but, it seemed to Harry, to be waiting for its owner to return.

"It's a quite a pile, isn't it?" Sirius looked around, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Why didn't my parents live here? Why did they go to Godric's Hollow?"

"Dumbledore suggested being away from the old homestead - plenty of people knew about it because the Potters lived here for generations - and the thought was that a cottage might be easier to defend." The ghost of a smile that had been tugging at his lips disappeared. "But no one has been here for years; I'd guess memories have faded by now. You'd be safe to live here now."

"Can we?" Harry gestured towards the front door.

"Of course."

"Where are we, anyway? Do you know much about the property?"

"We're in Wiltshire."

"Wiltshire. Near the _Malfoys_?" Harry paused as he stood before the door.

"Yes. Not far at all, actually. But more to the south than they are." Sirius waited for him to open the door. "Well, go on then, open it."

Harry took a deep breath and grasped the door knob firmly and turned it. The door opened with a slight squeak in the hinges. The two stepped into a broad foyer which ended in what appeared to be some sort of conservatory at the back of the house with a staircase that wrapped around the back wall, leading to the first floor. Several rooms flanked the hallway. Upon closer inspection, Harry realized they were all pocket doors that slid open. The first room on the right was obviously a parlor, decorated in a formal style. It looked a bit like a room where one would have received visitors a hundred years ago. There was a fine layer of dust over everything, and holland covers protected large pieces of furniture.

Sirius opened the next set of doors. "This room will be Hermione's favorite," he pronounced.

Harry appeared at his side. "You're right - it will be." Obviously a library, bookshelves lined the walls. There was a bay window on the back wall with a dusty cushion - a window seat in which to curl up and read. There was a reading area at one end and a desk area at the other, furniture still covered with ghostly covers.

"Oi there! Who're you?" Harry jumped at the sound of a voice to his right. He spun around to see a portrait on the wall. The young man had wire-rimmed glasses and a shirt with a high collar that appeared to be starched to points on the side of his face.

"I'm Harry. Who're you?"

"Oh, I see that now." The unknown wizard tugged at the collar. "Blasted shirt. Can't even turn my head properly. Don't know why my mum insisted I wear it for this portrait. So, you're James's boy. You look like him, except the eyes. That Lily, she was a beauty. Shame you didn't take after her more. Now, who's that with you?" Sirius stepped around into the portrait's line of sight. The man's eyes widened. "As I live and breathe, Sirius Black, it is you. You look like hell, m'boy! What happened to you?"

"Azkaban, James. Azkaban is hell on the looks."

"Humph. What the blazes were you doing there?"

"They thought I'd murdered James and Lily."

"That's ridiculous! You were like brothers! You'd no more kill James than the man in the moon." The James in the portrait adjusted his glasses and tugged at his collar again.

Harry's brow furrowed. "How did you know? That they'd been murdered, my parents?"

"They've got portraits, don't they? Of course I knew. We all knew. Just like we knew when you died for a bit a while back. But no sooner had word spread that the last Potter had passed than you were alive again. Resurrection Stone?"

At Harry's nod, James whooped. "Excellent! I won the pool."

"Sorry?"

"The pool! The betting pool! I bet on the Resurrection Stone, Jimmy bet on some Muggle means to bring you back, Rosalina thought we were both crazy. She thought it had something to do with Flamel's invention. You wouldn't have believed all the theories. Wait until I tell them. Why are you still in here? Go look at the rest of the house. We've been bored forever. It'll be nice to have you and your wife around."

"Uh, I'm not - uh - married." He glanced at Sirius. "Yet," he hastily added.

"What are you waiting on? Next Christmas? You're getting a bit long in the tooth! Better hurry up or no respectable girl will have you."

"Wait - where are my parents? I'd like to see them, maybe, you know, if I could."

"Of course, they're around here somewhere. I'll see if I can find them. But go on - they'll catch up with you."

Sirius led the way around the ground floor, showing Harry the billiards room, the conservatory, the kitchen, a large dining room that could also be used as a ballroom, a small sitting room opposite the parlor, and a wardrobe-sized half-bath. In almost every room a different portrait introduced itself. Several Jameses came forward as well as a Janice and the aforementioned Rosalina who was visibly disappointed that the Resurrection Stone brought Harry back. Harry looked for his parents in every frame.

"There's a James in every generation," Sirius told Harry as they made their way up the stairs to the first floor.

"So I gathered."

"This is the bedroom level."

"How many are there?"

"Uhh - Seven? I think. We can check."

As it happened, there were only six bedrooms, and one room looked like a lady's dressing room. Harry didn't spend much time looking through there, but explored the master bedroom and en suite bath. There was one other suite and the reminder shared a bath for every two bedrooms. A smaller set of stairs led to the attics, which housed a nursery, storage, and what appeared to be an elf's bedroom.

"Did the Potters have an elf when you stayed here?"

"No, they didn't. I think they had a housekeeper and a groundskeeper who came in every day, but no elf. The Potters were wealthy, but they never really got into all the trappings of wealth, if you know what I mean. And James' parents were elderly by the time I knew them. I think they did all the upkeep until they were too fragile, then they hired help since James was away at school."

Harry nodded as he considered the small room with the modest bed and window to the outside world. Hermione would approve of his grandparents.

He was disappointed he hadn't seen his parents yet, but his thoughts were interrupted when a silver badger appeared before them. "Sirius, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm sick. Can you get home?" Deirdre Kathleen's voice echoed from her ghostly Patronus.

"Harry, I've got to go." Sirius sounded a bit panicked. "You can make your way back, right?"

"Of course, of course - go. I'll be fine." Harry pushed him towards the door. He saw a familiar pair of faces in a portrait near the door. "I just want to check things out one more time." He watched as Sirius dashed, mell-pell, out the door. "Mum, Dad, you're here."

"Oh, Harry, it's so good to see you."

* * *

 _Wednesday Afternoon_

 _Azkaban Prison_

"Minister, I demand that I be released at once. I have been the victim of assault, and there is no reason for me to be incarcerated here like some common criminal! I want to be released on my own recognizance, and a trial by jury. Mark my words, I will be found not guilty and the Ministry will be forced to issue a public apology for this travesty." Zoe Trollop barely controlled her hysteria.

"That's quite a list of demands, Ms. Trallop. But I'm afraid I can only help with one of those. You will indeed have a jury trial, and it will begin quite soon. Your court-appointed barrister will be here to discuss with you your plea this afternoon. Your trial will start on Monday."

"But that's not enough time to prepare."

"Of course, it is. And the Wizengamot wants to handle this before Christmas."

"The Wizengamot? But surely they won't hear a case regarding something so petty as an unfounded accusation of extortion."

"Ah, yes, well, normally, you'd be correct. However, Ms. Trallop, you made a mistake. You attempted to blackmail Hermione Granger, now known as Hermione Black. And you were threatening Harry Potter as well. Also when you want to expose something so dangerous as Horcrux usage, well, that's enough to get you more an just a year or two in Azkaban. In fact, I'd tell you to get comfortable in your cell because I'd be surprised if you were going to be able to leave it in the next two decades."

"But you can't. McGonagall is head of the Wizengamot. She's biased! It won't be a fair trial!"

"Ah, you seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that this is America. We in the British Ministry don't have to offer anyone a trial, much less a fair one. But we are giving you a trial, so count yourself lucky. Sirius Black didn't even get one of those at all for evidence much weaker than we have on you."

"No, it's not right! I'm a citizen! You can't do this to me!"

"Ah, but we can. As I said, your attorney will be here this afternoon. I suggest you make good use of your time."

* * *

 **A/N: Absolutely unbelievably, this story has been nominated in the Multi-fandom Fan Fic Awards for "All Time Favorite Harry Potter Fanfic." Thank you so much to all my readers for reading, reviewing, and - holy cow - nominating this story. You all are truly the best readers out there. Much love!**


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: Thank you, dear readers, for sticking with me and coming back to visit with our hero and heroine. After much angst, this chapter is finally ready for you. Please forgive the long summer break. I can only say that my muse has departed never to be seen again, seemingly miffed that I named the new cat after her._

 _Beta Love: glitterally, who is really quite amazing and without whom this chapter would still be a half-finished mess on my computer. Thank you, my friend. As always, mistakes are my own._

 _Disclaimer: HP & the HPverse are the property of JKR and her assigns. I make no profit from the writing and posting of this story._

* * *

 _Wednesday_

 _Potter Hall, Wiltshire_

"You'd love her, Dad. Hermione's amazing. Remus called her the "brightest witch of our age." And he was right - I'd have never survived without her."

"She sounds like your mother." James' portrait glanced at the red-haired witch at his side.

"She's amazing, too. And we always knew she was the one for you."

Lily lightly punched her husband's arm. "No we didn't. We just knew they were bound to be good friends. You and Sirius were the ones who wanted that antiquated contract."

"He released us from it, you know."

"What? Why?"

"You can't be serious. Of course he did. It's almost the twenty-first century."

"But you just said you want to marry her."

"Of course I do, Dad. But that's not the point. We shouldn't be forced into by a contract _or_ a crazy law."

"Harry's exactly right." Lily stopped. "What was that - a law? What do you mean, a law?"

"Oh, it's a rumor. We lost too many people in the war, and the Wizengamot may try to pass a marriage law to force people to get married and have kids." Harry ran his hand through his already messy hair. "I'm pretty sure it's not going to happen."

The tightened shoulders in his parents' portraits eased. "That's a relief. They haven't done anything like that in almost a thousand years, but that curse is still on the books."

Harry's brow wrinkled in minor confusion. "Curse?"

But James had moved on. "Let me show you something." He led off, moving from frame to frame, Lily keeping pace. He stopped on the first floor across from the master bedroom. "Go in there and open the wardrobe. Press your hand," he held out his hand palm out and flat, "in the top right corner. Everything you need is there."

Curiosity piqued, Harry opened the door, expecting his father and mother to jump a frame into that room. When they didn't, he stuck his head back into the hallway, "Are you two coming?"

"No; the only portraits allowed in that room are current owners of the Hall. Privacy and all that."

A flush crept up Harry's neck. "Oh, right then. I'll, emm, I'll be right back." He went to the mahogany wardrobe and opened the largest door. It was empty but for a few wooden hangers hung haphazardly along the rail. He pressed his right palm against the back panel, and for a moment nothing happened. Then, the panel split in two, moving to either side like louvered doors. It reminded Harry, in an odd way, of when Hagrid showed him the entrance to Diagon Alley as an eleven year old and bricks receded to reveal the magical world. And what he saw when the doors folded in on themselves was almost as inspiring. Gold, silver, diamonds, rubies, and pearls shone from their cases. His eyes flew over the assorted jewelry. A diamond and pearl bracelet. A small ruby and diamond tiara. A strand of pearls winked at him from the bottom shelf. They were large and irregularly shaped, different from anything he'd ever seen before. But just as he picked them up, a small, elongated velvet-covered box caught his attention.

He set them to the side and pulled the box to him. Almost reverentially, he opened it to find a compass nestled into the box. It was gold, circular with a white face, and sat in a square, open bezel on a long gold chain. Something about its grace and simplicity reminded him of Hermione. It brimmed with hidden magical properties, but it wasn't flashy; it was beautiful, it was important, like the witch he loved. He closed the box and tucked it in his pocket and looked around for a closure. There wasn't an obvious one, but near the edge of the middle shelf was an antique-looking ring with a large red stone - a ruby, he thought - surrounded by diamonds. Taking it with him, he closed the main door to the wardrobe. Just to check, he re-opened the door. The smooth wooden back of the wardrobe was once again in place.

Necklace and ring in hand, he left the room and met his father and mother across the hall. "Dad, Mum, do you know anything about these?"

* * *

 _Christmas Morning_

 _Eighths Tower_

Harry stood midway across the common room, contemplating Hermione's door, the golden lion on the plaque standing guard while the silver serpent hissed in warning. He knew from experience the door would open for him if he really concentrated, and he was on pins and needles wanting to give her her Christmas gifts. Daphne had headed home for the holiday, so he knew she was alone, but he didn't want to give her this gift at Hogwarts, and he certainly didn't want to give it to her when they were exchanging gifts with Kate and Sirius at Grimmauld Place.

The school tower clock chimed the eight o'clock hour.

"Bloody hell, when is she going to wake up?" he thought impatiently.

Hermione's door opened as if in response. Hair sleep tousled and eyes cloudy, she smiled at him when she saw him standing impatiently in the middle of the room. "Silly, what are you doing in here? You could have woken me."

"I know, but I wanted to you to sleep in."

She waved him off, a yawn splitting her face. "I'm fine. I'll be ready to head down to breakfast in a trice."

He glanced down at the gaily wrapped package with the perfect bow - magic was a wonderful thing. If he'd had to do that without the help of magic, it'd have looked like something a young Dudley would have cobbled together - the comic section of the newspaper held together with the blue tape Aunt Petunia used to protect the trim in the house when she was changing the paint color in the lounge from "latte" to "mocha." Or was it "mocha" to "latte?" It didn't really matter - they looked exactly the same to Harry either way.

Hermione whisked off to the bath and he settled into his favorite chair, snagging the latest edition of "Quidditch Today" to read as he waited for her. He flipped through the pages impatiently, pausing on the ad for the newest Firebolt as he waited the short half-hour it took for her to get ready. As he was mulling over an article comparing the latest models of brooms - it seemed the newest Nimbus wasn't as fast off on the take-off as the Firebolt, but made up for it in distance speed, and the Cleansweep was still solidly in third place - he saw some familiar names. Ron was quoted in the article as being a fan of the Cleansweep in his position as Reserve Keeper on the English team. Harry's mouth kicked up at the corner when he saw he was listed as having a Firebolt under the "Famous Fliers" column. He snickered when he saw Draco's name beside the Nimbus.

"What are you laughing about?" Hermione wriggled down beside him in the chair.

"Nothing. Well, it's nothing important. Just saw some familiar names in an article about brooms." He glanced over at the small gift sitting on the broad arm of his chair. "After breakfast, would you mind - can we go somewhere else? I want to give you your gift before we go to Grimmauld Place this evening for Christmas dinner."

A look of confusion flashed across her face. "Sure, where to?"

"Do you trust me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be daft."

Taking that as an affirmative, Harry grinned, scooped up the two gifts and tucked them away. "Great - let's get something to eat, and then I'll apparate us there."

An hour later, Harry pushed open the gate to his home, held out his hand to Hermione, and pulled her through the wards.

"This is your family home?" She looked around, taking in the the worn but welcoming facade.

"It is." He walked backward, holding her hands in his as she took in the overgrown copse of trees and the details of the house. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful, Harry. It's so welcoming."

"I thought so, too. But I need to get Bill over here to help me with the wards; I want you to be able to come and go." He stopped when his left foot hit the bottom stair and turned around to offer her his arm and walk her up to the door, which opened into the spacious entry hall. He waved his arm. "This is it. And there's a library." A grin lit up his face when he saw her spin around.

"Show me," she demanded.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was still grinning as Hermione pulled out the oldest book she could find. Twenty minutes later, he made himself comfortable in the reading chair as she stood, engrossed, by the bookshelf, slowly turning the pages. Thirty minutes later, he glanced at the gift on the arm of his chair and contemplated the wand in his hand. He pointed it in her direction, slightly above her head and whispered an incantation. A sprig of mistletoe obediently popped into existence above her head, suspended from thin air. He got up and stood just behind her.

"Hermione," he whispered in her ear.

"Just one second." She held up a finger, motioning for time.

"You seem to be standing under a sprig of mistletoe."

Her brow creased momentarily, then she glanced up and smirked at the unimposing bit of greenery, tied with a Gryffindor-red ribbon at the base. She turned around, book still in hand. "Now, how did that get there, Mr. Potter?"

He shrugged innocently. "No idea. But I thought maybe we should uphold tradition and -"

"You're right. We should! Let's decorate!"

"Wait - what?"

But Hermione was off and running. She put the book back where it belonged, pulled out her wand, and conjured a Christmas tree for the corner. A bow made from the same ribbon as the one on the mistletoe adorned the top of the tree. A rope of popcorn and cranberries wound around the branches, and ornaments appeared. She then set about decorating other spaces around the room with bows and traditional Christmas decorations. There was even a Muggle Father Christmas tucked between two stacks of books on the far bookshelf. The sprig of mistletoe valiantly followed her around the room as she made it the kind of room Harry had always dreamed of seeing on Christmas morning.

She glanced around, assessing her work. "There. That's just about - " she sent a stream of magic towards the inanimate Father Christmas, who began to wave from his perch above them - "perfect." She grinned at Harry. "Do you like it?"

He looked around the room, mouth slightly agape before closing it with a snap. "You're right; It's perfect. Now, can I kiss my girlfriend?" He leaned forward pressed his lips gently and oh-so-briefly on hers. "And let's go sit by the tree - I want to give you your gift."

He grabbed the gaily wrapped package off the arm of the chair and towed her behind him to sit in front of the tree in the corner. She took it and carefully inspected it, savoring the experience of opening this gift. It was a small, oblong package, one that looked like it might have a bracelet or a necklace in it. She carefully untied the bow and set it to the side, tried to avoid tearing the paper, and slowly pulled out an old hinged box covered in worn black velvet. When she opened it, there was a beautiful simple compass on a long chain; she could feel the magic surrounding it. She glanced up at Harry who was practically vibrating with excitement. "It's gorgeous." She pulled it out, and started to put it on, but he forestalled her.

"If you put it on, only you can take it off. If I put it on, then both of us can."

She looked down at it again. "What does it do?"

He took it from her. "If you tap the top like this," he demonstrated a simple tap pattern, "and say _domum,_ it will always point you towards home." The needle obediently spun and pointed directly across from him towards Hermione. He held it out towards her. "Now you try."

Rather than taking the necklace, she leaned towards him. "I want you to put it around my neck."

"Really?" She nodded, and he slipped it over her head. "Thank you," he whispered, brushing a kiss on her cheek as he settled it around her neck.

She picked it up and inspected it from all angles. "I'm a little nervous, you know. I don't really have a home, do I?" She looked sad for a moment as she contemplated all she'd lost in the fight against Voldemort. She tapped the compass and whispered, " _Domum_."

The arrow spun just once and pointed directly to Harry.

"Don't you understand? You'll always have a home with me. And with this" - Harry pointed to the compass - "you can always find me."

She launched herself into his arms, and this time she kissed him. Just as their hands were beginning to wander a soft, "So sweet, James - they look so happy," interrupted them.

"I'm sure he'll introduce us soon, Lily. Now isn't the time."

"But, they're so perfect together! I want to stay."

"Muuummm…."

* * *

 _Christmas Evening_

 _Grimmauld Place_

Kate sat, hand on her burgeoning belly, and laughed as Sirius and Harry joked about. The wrapping paper was strewn about the lounge haphazardly. No one apparently knew the meaning of putting things in the rubbish, but she didn't mind the mess. It could be cleaned up easily enough. Hermione was glowing; she'd shown Kate the compass Harry had given her for Christmas that morning and told her of their plans to live in Harry's ancestral home after graduation in the spring. She and Sirius would have been glad to have them both here at the Place, but she supposed it would be better for them to have their own space. Besides, ancestral homes had a way of protecting their own. Kate couldn't help but wonder, had James and Lily had stayed at Potter Hall, if they'd still be alive. But Christmas evening was hardly the time to dwell on that. She caught the look that Hermione and Harry exchanged. It was one of those speaking glances that held an entire conversation, one of those looks that couples who were meant to be often shared. She turned her gaze to her husband, who was busy describing what appeared to be a flying maneuver, if the way his hands were moving was any indication. The swoops and circles had Harry cackling.

"No, no. Then James went left and -" Sirius was obviously discussing the glory days of the Marauders.

"Can I get you something?" Hermione asked, interrupting Kate's ruminations.

"What? No thank you," she smiled. "How are _you_ doing?" She patted the broad arm of the chair. "Have a seat. Watch the show with me."

Hermione perched there beside her and watched Sirius and Harry talk Quidditch and flying, using their bodies to act out their greatest moments.

"They're cute, aren't they?"

"They really are."

"I hate to be too serious on Christmas evening, but how do you feel about the owl from Kingsley?" Kate asked.

Hermione shrugged. "It's fine. Trallop deserved a guilty verdict and some time in Azkaban.

Now that the Dementors are gone, maybe she can actually get help to see what she did was wrong."

Harry stood, placed one foot in front of the other, and reached up.

"What in the world?"

"He's showing Sirius his signature Seeker move. Standing on the broom to catch the Snitch."

"He _stood_ on the broom? In flight?" Kate asked, incredulous.

"He did. Apparently, the International Quidditch Foundation is considering naming the move after him. The Potter Catch."

"Helga's knickers, that's dangerous."

"That's Harry - Gryffindor to the core."

Kate smirked. "I've got to ask this, and I hope you don't mind, but given how smart you are, why do you think the Hat put you in Gryffindor? Why not Ravenclaw?"

"You don't think I'm brave enough for Gryffindor?"

"Of course you are. But the Hat seems biased towards smarts going to Ravenclaw, other characteristics be damned."

"It told me I was too emotional for Ravenclaw."

"I can see that. But I think it was something else. I think the Hat knew who you were; I think the Hat put you in Gryffindor, which I think is where you belonged by the by, because it knew you were smart and incredibly brave, but it also knew you were Sirius's daughter, Harry Potter's best friend, and the love of his life. _I_ think the two of you have been written in the stars."

* * *

 _Morning, Boxing Day_

 _The Daily Prophet_

 _Section B, Page 3_

 _Public Notices:_

 _#18 Straightaway Drive was sold for 25,000 galleons on 21 December to Gregory Goyle._

 _Orion Prewett's estate will be settled on 8 January. Anyone with claims against the estates should contact the Ministry for Magic, Probate Division no later than 5 January at the close of business._

 _Zoe Trallop has been sentenced to a minimum five years in Azkaban for extortion. She will undergo intensive therapy and will only be released when a team of Healers determines that she is no longer a threat to society._

 _Malfoy International purchased The Rectory at Prawle's Pointe for 150,000 galleons on 22 December._

* * *

A/N: So, I think the story is complete, but a New Year's Eve bash at the Longbottom Estate is in my head. If you'd like to read it - drop me a review! If lots of folks ask, I'll post it here, but just in case, I'll PM it to you when it's ready if only a few of you are interested.


	24. Chapter 24

_Beta Love: Glitterally. I say this with no fear of exaggeration: I simply could not have done this without her. She has been a life preserver getting me through the roughest parts. I encourage everyone to read anything she writes because it's simply - perfect. As usual, all mistakes are mine and mine alone._

 _Disclaimer: HP & the HPverse are the property of JKR and her assigns. I make no money from the publishing of this flight of fancy. Any profit is spiritual and derived from positve feedback. _

* * *

_The Burrow_

 _New Year's Eve_

Even though her reflection had changed over two months ago, Hermione still found herself doing double-takes in the mirror when she glimpsed herself unexpectedly. But tonight, she knew what to expect, and the gray eyes and dark hair felt almost normal.

Ginny appeared over her shoulder. The redhead looked stunning in a one-shouldered dark green dress that, with its cinched waist and full skirt, was modest enough to suit even the highest sticklers attending the Longbottom's annual New Year's Eve celebration. This year, though, the party was special; Augusta Longbottom had cancelled the one for last year and so, for tonight's party, she'd invited everyone who was anyone and tasked Neville with inviting all of his Hogwarts classmates. Also invited were a select few seventh-year students who had distinguished themselves in the "Late Unpleasantness," as Mrs. Longbottom euphemistically called the Second Wizarding War. Thus, Ginny and Luna would be among the attendees.

"Are you ready?" At Hermione's nod, Ginny continued, "You look beautiful, Hermione. Harry's going to drool."

"He's seen this dress already; I wore it to Sirius and Kate's wedding, but these" - she pointed to her silver, strappy high-heel sandals - "are new."

"Trust me, he'll love it. I bet he liked it before, but those shoes kick it up a notch."

Just then, a familiar voice intruded. "Blimey, 'Mione. You look hot."

"Ron!" Hermione spun on her heel and opened her arms for a hug. "It's been so long! I can't believe you finally made it back."

"Yeah, well, the coaches decided to send us home. We were playing like rubbish in practice, and I think they wanted to be home for New Year's after they made us miss Christmas." He squeezed her again before releasing her to get another look. "But enough about me. How are you? With – " he gestured to her eyes and hair, "all of this?"

"I'm getting used to it."

"Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?" Ginny put in.

"Gin." Ron gave his sister a brief hug before frowning. "What's this I hear about you actually dating that tosser Blaise Zabini? I thought it was just for fun."

Hermione objected. "Ronald! Blaise has been very nice this year."

"Huh. You tell me if he does anything, Ginny." Ron offered his arms to both witches. "I'll send a Bludger his way."

"I hate to break it to you, brother mine, but you're a Keeper, not a Beater."

"Doesn't matter. I know some really good Beaters."

They went downstairs to meet Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Harry to leave for the party. Since Ginny and Hermione had never been to the Longbottom estate, Ron and Harry took them by Side-along, and the rest of the Weasley clan met them there.

When they arrived at the Apparition point, there was a large thestral-drawn carriage waiting to take their party to the house.

The Longbottom estate, known as the Place, was a beautiful old Georgian manor and sat on a pond. The gracious old home rang with laughter and the tinkle of champagne glasses while the guests streamed out of the ground floor into the expansive gardens, kept comfortable in the cool night air by Warming Charms and tents. There were two bands playing, the one inside adhering to the foxtrots, waltzes, and cotillions. But Harry and Hermione, along with most of their friends, headed outside to hear the band playing wizarding wireless hits on the patio. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and their peers walked through occasionally, admiring the glittering throng of young people enjoying themselves before returning inside to gossip and admire Augusta's latest antique acquisitions.

Sirius arrived shortly after the Weasleys' party. Kate was gorgeous in a deep red dress with a wrap top, long sleeves, and an empire waist, and he showed her off to everyone he knew and a few he didn't. When he caught sight of Hermione and Harry outside, they made their greetings.

"Hermione, you look lovely, as usual." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then turned to Harry, giving him a back-slapping hug. "You clean up pretty good too, Pronglet."

"Thanks." Harry returned the back pounds. "You don't look so bad either." He turned his attention to Kate and hugged her quickly. "You, of course, are gorgeous."

"Hermione, I have something for you." Sirius turned his attention back to his daughter. "It's your birthday tomorrow, and I want to give you your gift." He reached into an interior robe pocket and pulled out a leather jeweler's box. She took it and slowly opened it. Inside it was a gold charm bracelet. "It was your mother's; her parents charted her life with it. I had it stored in my vault at Gringotts, so it wasn't touched for all these years, and I know she'd want you to have it."

Hermione gasped and blinked back tears as she gently pulled the bracelet out and inspected the beautiful piece. There were over twenty charms including a piano, a tiny witch's hat, a wand, an engagement ring and wedding band set adoring the simple gold loops. There was even a small pram that had the initials CPB engraved on it.

"She would have been so proud of you," her father continued, his eyes rapidly blinking. "You're so strong, and I feel like I should have known, all these years. You're so much like her." Sirius's eyes shimmered with unshed tears and his hand lifted to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear before dropping it to his side. "Can you forgive me for not recognizing you?"

"I already have."

She handed the bracelet to Harry and held out her arm, signaling him to affix the clasp.

Sirius watched the silent communication with a faint smile around his mouth. "Will you come to New Year's dinner tomorrow?"

Hermione looked into her father's gray eyes, so like hers, and nodded. "Yes, I'll come to dinner."

"Harry, you'll be there?"

"Of course."

Across the floor, Ron sipped his butterbeer and fended off the unwanted interest of an old schoolmate. Just a few meters away, he spotted someone he'd much rather talk to. "Uh, Romilda, great to catch up. I see my - err - cousin over there. Been ages. Maybe we can get together again later?"

"But - "

He slipped away quickly and snagged a glass of champagne in his open hand from a passing waiter. His quarry saw him coming, shooed away Terry Boot, and when he arrived at her side, she took a deep breath and accepted the proffered glass of bubbly with a smile. "I wondered if you'd turn up tonight, Ron."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be, Hannah."

As midnight drew close, Harry pulled Hermione and her aching feet onto the floor for another dance. The band played a slow ballad as they swayed quietly.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Me, too."

"Can we start right now?"

"Of course - wait - what do you…" Hermione's voice trailed off.

Harry took a quick knee as the bandleader started the countdown to midnight.

"Ten!"

"Hermione Jean Granger…"

"Nine!"

"Hermione Pleiades Black…"

"Eight!"

"You will always be in my heart."

"Seven!"

Hermione gasped when Harry pulled the small ring box from his pocket, opening it to showcase a gorgeous ruby ring, the central stone surrounded by diamonds, obviously a Potter family heirloom.

"Six!"

She tuned out the voices around her, the world narrowing to focus on the man in front of her. The man who'd been her best friend for years, whom she'd loved and been loved by since they were children.

"Five!"

"Will you please do me the honor of marrying me?"

"Four!"

"Oh, Harry."

"Three!"

The murmurs, which had begun about four seconds previously, were growing as more people saw what was happening.

"Two!"

"Yes!"

"One!"

Harry stood, wrapped his arms around her, and spun her around. When he put her feet on the ground, he didn't ask permission before he swooped down and captured her lips with his. The rest of the world faded and all she could feel was his mouth on hers. Her hands came up and rested on his waist inside his dress robes as he deepened the kiss. The cheers from his family and friends penetrated their bubble, and he slowly disengaged. They stood, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. He pulled the ring from the forgotten ring box and slipped it on her finger.

Hermione threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close to whisper in his ear, "Can we go home?"

They Disapparated with a soft pop.

In the corner, the noise of the crowd and the distinctive sound of disapparation finally drew Ron's attention from his kiss with Hannah. "What just happened?"

Ginny smacked him on the arm. "Oh my Godric, you dolt - he just proposed! And she said yes!"

"Huh. About time."

* * *

 _The Daily Prophet_

 _Society Section_

 _New Year's Day_

 _From the looks of things with an apparent New Year's Eve proposal, Hermione Black (Order of Merlin, First Class), famous as the Brightest Witch of Her Age, and one third of the Golden Trio, and most recently for being the long-believed deceased daughter of Sirius Black, is now engaged to the Chosen One himself, Harry Potter (Order of Merlin, First Class). Over the course of the fall, she was linked to Draco Malfoy (scion of the Malfoy family) before appearing to settle on Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy has since married Luna Malfoy nee Lovegood (Order of Merlin, Second Class)._

 _Also of note was Ronald Weasley (Order of Merlin, First Class), Reserve Seeker for England, who seemed to be very enamored with Miss Hannah Abbott. Despite not arriving together, they appeared to Disapparate with one another at the end of the evening. However, our reporter on the scene was not able to confirm as representatives for the families denied all comment. Neville Longbottom (Order of Merlin, First Class) and Daphne Greengrass also officially announced their engagement at the end of the evening. Rest assured dear readers, the Prophet will bring you all the latest news on the upcoming nuptials._

 _Neville Longbottom (Order of Merlin, First Class) and Daphne Greengrass also officially announced their engagement at the end of the evening. Rest assured dear readers, the Prophet will bring you all the latest news on the upcoming nuptials._

* * *

 _The Daily Prophet_

 _Society Section_

 _15_ _th_ _February_

 _Mr. Sirius Black of #13 Grimmauld Place is pleased to announce the marriage of his daughter, Hermione Pleiades Black, to Mr. Harry Potter of Potter Hall (Wiltshire). They were joined in a unitatas sponsus at Mr. Potter's ancestral home on 14_ _th_ _February in a private ceremony attended by close friends and family. After graduation from Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they will reside at Potter Hall. Mr. Potter and Mrs. Black-Potter will both be employed by the Ministry of Magic as an Auror and a legal advisor for Magical Creatures, respectively._

* * *

 _AN: I have to thank my fan fiction friends for all their support (you know who you are). I love you all._

 _Please drop a review if you enjoyed this little story. I know the end has been a long time coming (a year!). And for my steady readers and especially reviewers - THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. Y'all help make this little hobby of mine worthwhile. Hugs, kisses, and all that good stuff._


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